


I Never Should Have Left

by Targaryen92



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, R Plus L Equals J, With some twists, direwolves, s7 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-07-12 14:23:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Targaryen92/pseuds/Targaryen92
Summary: S7 AU w/ a few twists. Daenerys arrives on Dragonstone, intent on reclaiming the Iron Throne and saving the man she loves from the Wall. Her plans are changed when she learns Jon Snow has become King in the North. (Basically, Jon & Dany met in Pentos for reasons to be explained & most everything played out as it did on the show with a few important twists.)





	1. Daenerys I

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“Prophecies are a dangerous thing,” the Lady Melisandre said, hesitating for her next words. Daenerys sensed there was something behind the red priestess’ pause. _Did her prophecies bring about Stannis Baratheon’s end? What have prophecies cost her? I should not trust her, she doesn’t even seem to trust herself._

“I believe you have a role to play, as does another, the King in the North, Jon Snow,” Melisandre finished. The name sent a shiver down her spine. Daenerys could feel her heart beating out of her chest as her chin slightly quivered against her will. She wasn’t ready for this. Years of practice, keeping her queenly mask at court were all for naught.

_Jon? He is alive? And the King in the North? But it can’t be, he said his vows. He would never break them. How?_

“Jon Snow?” Tyrion asked, giving her a look before returning his gaze to Lady Melisandre. “Ned Stark’s bastard?” _Bastard…He is no bastard._

Tyrion’s use of the word felt like a dagger to her heart. Daenerys could never think of him as a bastard. She loved Jon and he had loved her. It was long ago, but those few weeks were memories as fresh as her ones from her final weeks in Meereen. The feel of his strong, calloused hands and full, powerful lips were still etched in her skin.

After all that had happened since she watched him ride away, returning across the Narrow Sea, she still thought of him every night. Daenerys was a woman and a queen, but she felt like a lovesick girl when her northern fool crept into her mind. During her journey through the Dothraki Sea, she prayed he would return and save her from Khal Drogo. _I should have said yes. I should have run away with him._

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this, Jon Snow, aside from the visions you’ve seen in the flames, that is?” Varys asked with greater calm than Daenerys presented. Melisandre was a stranger and Daenerys was unsure of the priestess’ true loyalty. _She cannot know the truth, not yet._

“As Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, he allowed the wildlings south of the Wall, to protect them from great danger,” Melisandre answered. Daenerys could see it in the priestess’ eyes. _She believes in him._ “As King in the North, he has united those wildlings with the Northern Houses, so together they may face their common enemy.”

“He sounds like quite a man,” Daenerys regained her façade, hoping her belief in Jon did not bleed through. _He is the greatest man I ever knew. A true king._

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you the things that have happened to him. The things that he has seen with his own eyes,” Melisandre responded. Daenerys could not reason why, but she felt like the priestess was hiding something. _There is more she isn’t telling us. What happened to Jon? What has he seen? Why would he break his vows? Honor was everything to him._

“See that accommodations are provided for the Lady Melisandre,” Daenerys commanded in High Valyrian to the Unsullied standing at the doors to the Throne Room they had brought the red priestess through. She did not want the priestess who had once served Stannis Baratheon to know anything more than she may have picked up on. _If she knows Jon, does she know about us? Did he tell her? Could she see it in my eyes?_

Melisandre gave a small curtsy and turned on her heels to follow the waiting Unsullied to be escorted to chambers provided to her. Daenerys guessed the priestess knew her way through the halls of Dragonstone better than herself and could find the guest chambers on her own. But Daenerys knew better than to trust Melisandre or any visitor for that matter.

“Shall I send a raven north, your Grace?” Tyrion broke the silence moments after the doors were shut and Melisandre was away, unable to hear her conversation with her advisors.

“No, I will write it. He will know it is me,” Daenerys said, knowing she wanted Jon to not question the truthfulness of the raven. She presumed he would still come if Tyrion sent the raven scroll in his writing, but she knew if she asked him to come himself in her own writing, he would come.

“If his Grace is the King in the North, it may be wise to hold off on our plans for Casterly Rock,” Ser Barristan Selmy spoke up. Daenerys could hear the pride in his voice. He never ceased to tell her how proud he was to serve her. She knew he was eager to serve her brother’s son.

“Plans are already in motion. The Unsullied are meant to set sail within the moon,” Varys argued, skeptical of Barristan pushing aside their plans.

“Grey Worm, have the men prepare for the journey to Casterly Rock,” Daenerys turned to the commander of her Unsullied. After he nodded in agreement, she looked to Tyrion, “But we will wait until Jon arrives. I do not want to move against Cersei until I have spoken with him.”

“There is also the possibility that his Grace is already wed. If the northern lords have named him King in the North, he may have taken a northern lady for his queen. He does not know of your return,” Varys reminded her, sounding careful with his words. He was right to do so. The Spider’s words stung her ears. _We have come so far. We do not deserve that. He should be with us._

“Find out what you can from the Lady Melisandre,” she ordered her Master of Whispers.

“Your Grace…,” Tyrion began to argue until she warned him with a raised eyebrow. She knew he did not agree with her decision to halt their plans for Casterly Rock.

“My decision is final. If that is all, I will speak with you on the morrow,” Daenerys dismissed Tyrion and Varys, turning on her heels toward the archway leading to the hallways that led to her chambers. Grey Worm and Missandei went with her while Ser Barristan and the two other Queensguard followed.

On her way to the royal chambers, Daenerys slipped into the Chamber of the Painted Table. There was ample light near the hearth with ink and quill waiting for her on the table. Her first two scrolls had to be discarded. She was nervous and her shaking hands did not do well with the first quill. Before she started on her third scroll, she took a moment to calm herself and tell herself this was real.

_This is happening. This is actually happening. He will return to me and we will rule the Seven Kingdoms, together. We will be a family, like it should have been. Viserys or Ned Stark will not be there to break us apart again._

Once her raven scroll was finished, Daenerys looked it over, again and again until the words were etched in her mind. There was just enough in her message to let him know it was her. She trusted her subtle hint at their first kiss and their final night together in Pentos was enough to tell Jon it was truly her. And there was just enough in her message that if any of their enemies were to intercept the raven, they would not know of the connection they held.

“Your Grace?” Missandei asked, worried for her. Daenerys realized a tear had slipped down her cheek, showing her emotions. She was grateful it was only her most loyal advisors and Queensguard in the room.

“I’m fine,” she promised Missandei. “Here, take it to the rookery. Have the maester send the raven to Winterfell.”

Missandei carefully took the scroll from her hands and left the chamber with Grey Worm escorting her. Daenerys sat by the blazing hearth for a few more moments, contemplating how she would handle Jon’s return. She had not expected to see him until she had taken the Iron Throne and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. That was supposed to be moons from the present, at the earliest.

Daenerys had Dorne, the Reach, and the Iron Islands. After taking King’s Landing, she was assured the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Riverlands would bend the knee soon after. Her Unsullied would take Casterly Rock and start an offensive against the Westerlands if Cersei Lannister managed to escape. What worried her was the potential for war in the Vale and the North.

Tyrion and Varys were quick to remind her on the journey from Meereen that the Vale’s army was untouched in the wars that had torn apart Westeros. And Daenerys knew from Jon, the North had never been conquered by a southern army. But Daenerys did not mean to conquer the North, she meant to liberate it. _All the Starks are dead. I would have taken it back, for them. It is theirs now._

Daenerys’ walk from the Chamber of the Painted Table was a blur. She was not even sure how she got to where she stood. She wasn’t ready to open the door before her. Not sure why, Daenerys stared at iron sigil of House Targaryen nailed to the door. She was nervous and excited for what came next. _They aren’t going to sleep for a fortnight._

“Shall I…?” the Dornishman in her Queensguard asked, not needing to say more.

“Yes, tell her that I wish to speak with her,” Daenerys ordered the knight. She listened to his footsteps echo through the hall until silence had returned.

Willing herself forward, Daenerys pushed open the heavy wooden door to the chambers lying next to her own. The solar before her was empty, but illuminated by a dozen candles. It still did not feel like home, but it was just their first day on Dragonstone. Across the floor, she spotted a small wooden sword, several figurines carved in the shapes of dragons and wolves, and a small Dothraki bow without its arrows.

Daenerys’s eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of them. Seeing nothing, she turned to her right and headed toward the entrance of the bedchambers. When she passed through the doorway, she found them in the same bed with a lit hearth and half a dozen candles lighting the room. The raging storm outside the window was more than enough to illuminate the perfect children in front of her.

Almost in a rush, Daenerys went to their bed, sitting along the edge. She knew both were awake. They always were during a storm. Daenerys knew to come to Aemon’s bedchamber first because Alysanne always snuck into his room when lightning raged in the sky and thunder echoed through their rooms. And she knew better than to believe their act. They heard her footsteps and were feigning their sleep.

“Aemon, Alysanne,” Daenerys tried to get their attention, shaking both of their shoulders as they laid on their sides, facing the window. Her precious children persisted with their mummery, slowly reacting to her plea. “I know you are awake. I have something to tell you, something good.”

Daenerys did not know if it was because they knew they were caught or they heard the cheer in her voice, but her little prince and princess sat up on the bed. Aemon looked just as she imagined Jon did as a young boy in Winterfell. Their son inherited his father’s eyes and raven curls. Looking at him always brought her joy, but there was always a small pain that came with the memories Aemon stoked.

“Are we going to fly the dragons?” Alysanne asked, never shy to hide her wish to fly on Drogon. Daenerys guessed her daughter would climb onto Rhaegal or Viserion if she had the chance. Alysanne was her perfect Valyrian princess, inheriting her amethyst eyes and silver hair. She always spoke of the dragons and flying to the Wall to save her father.

“No, Alys, you are too small,” Daenerys replied with a smile and a light chuckle, shaking her head. “No, I have something better to tell you. Your father will be here with us soon.”

“Father?” both children asked with worried looks, scared they had misheard her. Daenerys nodded her head, failing to hide the smile gracing her own face. “Father!”

“When will he be here?” Alysanne demanded, moving across the furs on the bed with a joyous look about her face. Daenerys took her daughter’s hand, gently letting her know this was real.

“I’m going to show him the dragons and my sword,” Aemon declared, always proud of the wooden practice sword gifted to him on his fourth nameday, just before the Great Games and the moons she was parted from them. Her son was only five years of age and had no real skill, but she said nothing to discourage her son. The first time she told him of Jon’s skill with a sword, he swore to be as talented as his father.

“I am not sure,” Daenerys answered Alysanne before Aemon could say anything more to distract her response. “Within the next two moons.”

Both her children’s shoulders shrunk. She hated the sight. They were thrilled and unable to hide their happiness moments before, but now dipped their heads with disappointment. Since they were old enough to learn about Jon and understand why he was away, they always asked when he would return to them. Hardly a day passed when they did not ask and Daenerys never had the answer.

The hard truth was Daenerys never knew if she would see Jon again. He had joined the Night’s Watch and could have died. She had no way of knowing whether he was alive or dead. _I should have said yes. He wanted to save me and I did not listen. He would now know the truth, about himself and our children._

“Your father will be here as soon as he can, I promise,” Daenerys swore without knowing how long it would take Jon to ride to White Harbor and from there, sail to Dragonstone.

“You promise?” Alysanne asked.

“I promise,” Daenerys replied, leaving a kiss on both her children’s brows. Her reassurance returned the bristling joy in their little faces.

“Can I have a new dress made?” Alysanne asked, trying to persuade her with expectant eyes that won over many in her court.

“Of course. I will speak with the handmaidens,” Daenerys assured her daughter.

“Is Father bringing other rangers?” Aemon asked, always interested in the Night’s Watch. Countless times, her son swore to join his father and great uncle at the Wall to defend the realms of men. And countless times, Daenerys had to remind her son he was the Crown Prince and would be the King one day, to no avail.

“Your father isn’t in the Night’s Watch anymore, he is King in the North,” Daenerys said with pride. She believed in him since the first day they met and by the time he left, she knew he would become a ranger and lord commander. _He earned his crown, with a bastard’s name. He was born to rule._

“But I thought he was the King,” Alysanne spoke up.

“He is sweetling. He is,” Daenerys replied, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair, not knowing how to explain many things to her. _How can I tell them he thinks himself a bastard? How can I tell them he does not even know they exist?_

“Tell us the story again,” Alysanne demanded. Daenerys knew what story she was referring to. It was the same story her daughter always liked to hear. Not a sennight passed before her daughter wished to hear the story of Daenerys falling in love. It was the only thing her daughter could grasp and hold onto. It was all she had of Jon.

“Well, it all began in Pentos, along the Narrow Sea…,” Daenerys retold the story she had told a thousand times. She had expected the tale to grow old by now, but she enjoyed telling it as much as her daughter enjoyed hearing it. It was all she had of Jon as well.

Just as all the other times Daenerys recounted the tale, her children interrupted, reciting the parts they could remember. Daenerys laughed with her children and occasionally let a tear slip when some parts of her story struck the chords within her heart saved for Jon. Part of her never expected to see him again, but now her dream was real and she would be with him. _We were meant for each other, since the days we came into this world. We should have had a life together. So much would be different._

Keeping to their routine, her children were fast asleep by the time her story approached its end and Jon left her to return across the Narrow Sea. She was glad they always fell asleep before the end. It always made her sad and she thought it made them sad as well. It was a harsh reminder, teasing them with the life they never had, but deserved.

“You sent for me?” Daenerys heard the familiar soft voice as she pulled the light furs up to her children’s chins, not bothering to return Alysanne to her bed across the solar in the other bedchamber.

“Aye,” Daenerys confirmed, taking one last look at her sleeping children before turning to the doorway connecting Aemon’s bedchamber to the solar. “I have news from the North…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to acknowledge An Empire of Ice & Fire by Longclaw_1_6 was the inspiration for the premise of Jon & Dany meeting & having kids he doesn't know about. Everything else will be different. 
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments. Depending on whether people like this or not, I will continue this fic, but it will not be a primary focus. Targaryen Supremacy will receive most of my attention unless I come up against writer's block. This fic will not be as long as my other fics or include as much world building if I continue.


	2. Jon I

_****_ **Jon Snow**

_It had been a long time since he had felt this happy. Jon tried to remember a time in his life that compared to this, but there were no memories from the Winterfell godswood, or the Great Hall, or a ride through the Wolfswood. No, all the moments in his life he once cherished paled against his time in Pentos._

_He was in her bed again, for the fifth night in a row. While his chambers in Winterfell were small, bare, and cold, Daenerys’ bedchambers were warm, soft, and smelled of flowers, like her. He never wanted to leave. Unfortunately, this was their last night together._

_A sheen of sweat covered them both as they laid next to one another, staring into each other’s eyes as they recovered from there lovemaking. It had been like this since the first night he snuck into the Magister’s manse and found his way to her chambers. He thanked the old gods for their chance meeting. He did not want to leave his siblings or the North. He went with his father, for duty._

_As Jon stared at Daenerys’ ethereal beauty, running his fingers through her flowing silver mane, he remembered every second of the moment they met. It was their first night in Pentos, guests to a magister of the city, when he met a princess. The moment he saw her, he knew there was nothing more beautiful in the world than Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Her soft eyes and full lips killed all the hate he held for her family._

_Laying in her bed, he thought himself a fool for ever hating her family. The stories of his Aunt Lyanna’s abduction and rape enraged him. It enraged every man who considered himself a northman. But Daenerys did not kidnap, rape, or murder his aunt. She was sweet and innocent. She was everything he imagined in a wife he would never have._

_Just the idea of having her for his own was a self-inflicted wound. He was a bastard meant for the Wall, unworthy of a trueborn princess. Jon had nothing to offer her. She deserved the world and he could not even give her a holdfast. Even if he could provide her what she so deserved, he was still a Snow and she a Targaryen. When he listened to his greedy thought, he also heard Lady Catelyn Stark’s voice and all she had to say about bastards when his father was not around._

_The lingering thoughts of his future, alone, serving atop the Wall, protecting the realms of men, brought Jon to thoughts of her future. On the morrow, Jon was intended to sail across the Narrow Sea, to White Harbor. Daenerys was betrothed to a Dothraki khal. It was only when she was reminded of her unwanted betrothal that he saw her cry._

_Daenerys was somehow still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen when she cried, but the sight angered him more than anything ever had in Jon’s life. More than Theon, Lady Catelyn, or all the others who reminded him he was a bastard, Daenerys’ tears angered him. He wanted to run his sword through her brother, the Magister Illyrio, this Khal Drogo, and all his bloodriders. Daenerys was good and pure and deserved so much more. More than Jon could give._

_“What are you thinking?” she asked, lying naked as her first nameday with the silk sheets of her bed barely rising to her hip. He could still see the thatch of silver curls above her wet folds and her perfect breasts gently heaving from their passion._

_“Let’s leave, tonight,” Jon braved, not believing he said the words himself. All his life, he was raised to do his duty. His father, Ned Stark, was the most honorable man he ever knew. He swore to himself he would prove them all wrong, that he was not a bastard who wished to steal everything from his trueborn brothers and sisters. Duty was everything to Jon, until he met Daenerys Targaryen._

_“What? You want to visit the docks?” Daenerys questioned with a furrowed brow as his hand slid from her flowing hair to the crook of her neck. Jon wished he could see her twist her eyebrows as she did now every day until the end of his days._

_“No, Pentos. Let us leave everything. I have no castles, manses, wealth, or armies, but I can protect you. I swear it, to the old gods and the new. I love you, Daenerys. I love you and will do everything I can to make you happy,” Jon promised with desperation in his voice. He wanted to save her from the fate determined by her brother and men who sought to trade her like a brood mare._

_“But…,” Daenerys let out before he stopped her._

_“I know I am a bastard. I know I am not worthy of you. If you find a lord to marry, I will serve you and protect you. I just want you to be happy. I want you to be safe…,” Jon argued, finding his heart racing faster than when he was thrusting into her hips. He could feel the lump forming in his throat as he saw the doubt and fear in her eyes._

_“I know you love me. I love you, more than anyone in this world,” Daenerys proclaimed, cupping his jaw. “But Viserys is my brother. He says I must marry the khal. I don’t want to, but he says I must. He is my brother….My King…”_

_“Fuck him! If you were my blood, I would protect you and care for you, not sell you off to some barbarian!” Jon argued, raising his voice louder than he intended. Jon instantly felt the feeling of regret course through his veins when Daenerys shuddered and grimaced at his outburst. If the guards were patrolling the corridor outside her chambers, they would have heard him._

_“He is the only family I have left,” Daenerys let out, sounding as soft and weak as the first time he spoke to her, under his father’s careful watch. He hated what he had done. The Daenerys he knew, even if he suspected no one else did, was strong and intelligent. Jon knew she would make a far better Queen than Viserys a King._

_“I could be your family,” Jon argued, inching closer across the bed so nothing separated them._

_“We can’t…” Daenerys nearly whispered with a quivering chin. He did not believe her. Jon suspected she did not believe her own words. They had only known each other for close to a moon, but he felt like he knew her more than anyone he had ever known. More than his father or Robb or Arya._

_“Dany, please…,” Jon pleaded, feeling a tear slip down his cheek. He never cried. He never let Lady Catelyn or the others at Winterfell see his tears. Bastards did not have that luxury and Jon would never let them see his pain. Daenerys saw his pain from the moment they met. It was what made her different and also the reason he felt so much shame._

_“Jon, we can’t,” Daenerys replied before fumbling a kiss on his lips, preventing either of them from sobbing. He loved her lips, but hated that this would be his final memories of her. Their last hours together were supposed to be joyous and passionate. Instead, both were filled with despair, guilt, mourning, and fear._

_“We can Dany. I love you and I know you love me,” Jon barely let out, choking on his own words._

_“And that is why we can’t. You are a Stark and I a Targaryen. If we ran away, we would be discovered eventually. The Usurper would have us killed and your family as well. And Viserys…he is my only family left and my King. I must do as he says,” Daenerys sounded unconvinced again by her own words._

_Frustrated by the control Viserys still wielded over Daenerys and hating himself for ever thinking he could have her, Jon turned away to lie on his back. More tears were coming and he was afraid what she would think of him. Daenerys thought him strong and brave, but all Jon felt in that moment was weak and foolish. He was only able to stare at the ceiling of Daenerys’ bedchambers for so long until it was all a blur from his tears. He did his best to stifle his sobs, closing his eyes to the world in shame._

_“It isn’t fair,” Daenerys said in a wavering voice, sniffling after leaving a peck on his chest. She was flush against him again, entangling her legs with his as her arm wrapped securely around his torso. “In another life, we would be together. You, a brave King and I, your Queen. We would have children running through a castle. I love you, Jon Snow. You will be the only man I ever love.”_

“You’ve barely spoken a word since we left Winterfell,” Ser Davos came to his side at the bow of the ship, interrupting the sweet and painful memory. _All I want to talk about is her. She is all I can think of. What is she like? Has she changed?_

Jon suspected not as he stood with Ghost, keeping a watchful eye on the horizon. Daenerys was good. She was the best person he ever knew and he saw the Queen inside her, even when she did not. What Jon did not expect was for the girl he had loved and still loved to bring dragons back into the world.

The sun was still rising in the sky and Jon could make out land in the distance. The captain from White Harbor said they were close the night before. Dragonstone looked unremarkable from the sea, but Jon suspected Ser Davos’ description of the island and its castle would be proven true.

“You’ve been holding onto that for a moon,” Davos nodded to the raven scroll Jon had forgotten was still in his hands. His Hand told no lies. He had read the parchment and ink thousands of times. Jon could see it was her writing and picked up on her subtle hints to their time in Pentos. “What are you not telling me? I did not say anything in front of the other lords or the Lady Sansa, but I must ask. I cannot advise you if I do not know…”

“I knew her…,” Jon interrupted his Hand. He had never actually named Ser Davos Seaworth Hand to the King, but that was what he was. He wasn’t a northerner and he wasn’t a brother of the Night’s Watch, but Jon trusted the Onion Knight more than anyone he had around him at Winterfell besides Tormund. It pained him to think it, but he could not even trust Sansa as much as the wildling who once tried to kill him or the man who had served Stannis Baratheon.

“Her?” Davos asked.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon answered, finally tearing his eyes away from Dragonstone looming in the distance. “You think me mad.”

“How?” Davos asked with confusion and curiosity across his face.

“Before I joined the Watch. Before my father rode south and before Robert Baratheon came to Winterfell,” Jon replied, reliving the first time he saw a king. He remembered being disappointed and angered. Robert Baratheon would have seen to Daenerys’ death without a second’s thought and Jon could feel how he felt then. He wanted to put his steel through the stag king’s chest. “My father journeyed to Pentos and I went with him.”

“The Warden of the North plotting rebellion?” Davos jested, causing them both to chuckle.

“No, it was by chance. My father was there to negotiate trade terms with the magisters of Pentos and I met Dany the night we arrived at a feast hosted by one of these magisters,” Jon recalled. He never thought of it then, for Daenerys consumed all his thoughts and emotions, but his father’s behavior was strange. Every day they spent in Pentos, Jon was free to do whatever he wanted while his father negotiated with the unseen magisters. Jon could have explored the markets and taken rides along the shoreline, but he didn’t. He went to Daenerys every day.

“Dany?” Davos caught his mistake, forcing Jon to close his eyes, cursing himself. “You loved her.”

“Aye,” Jon confessed. _There is no point in hiding it. He would see through the lie._

“For our sake, I hope she still loves you,” Davos mused. “The last thing I want to do is return to Dragonstone only to be burnt alive by three dragons.”

“She won’t burn us,” Jon promised. _Daenerys isn’t her father. She never was. She never will be._ “Not if we stay by Ghost,” he jested, remembering how much Daenerys cared for the little direwolf pup.

“Do you think you can convince her the real war is to the north?” Davos questioned.

“I do not know,” Jon answered truthfully. He wanted to believe he could, but he could not say. All Daenerys ever wanted was a home and family. He had heard whispers she had children from her Dothraki khal. Other whispers said she lost a babe in the Dothraki Sea. _Perhaps she has family. All that is left is her home, the Red Keep._

“What if she asks you to bend the knee?” Davos echoed his sister’s relentless question.

“I will do what is right for the North,” Jon replied, knowing it was no true answer. If it were just himself, Jon knew he would bend the knee to Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Jon no longer cared that his father was a Stark and the woman he loved was a Targaryen. The history between their houses would not stop him from proclaiming her his Queen. But he was the King in the North and his wants were irrelevant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planned on posting this tomorrow night, but here it is. This chapter may seem straight forward, but there is something subtle I left in there that has major implications on the plot. Next chapter is Daenerys and their reunion with a flashback included. Their reunion will take place over multiple chapters because Jon has a lot to learn.
> 
> Please leave any feedback or questions. I was genuinely surprised how much people enjoyed the first chapter. I hope this fic lives up to people's hopes & expectations.


	3. Daenerys II

**Daenerys Targaryen**

_She did not want him to leave, but they had no choice. Daenerys was a Targaryen and Jon a Stark. Viserys needed her and she was the only family he had left. Viserys was the only family she had left. Daenerys was a dragon and she had to do her duty to her House. But it did not lessen the hurt. In little under a moon, she had come to love Jon Snow more than she had ever loved Viserys. A voice inside her head wished Jon was the brother she had._

_Already dressed in a fine essosi dress made of violet silk, Daenerys kept her eyes on Jon as he dressed himself inside her chambers. Every piece of clothing he put on was a wound to her heart, reminding her this was it. She would never be with him again, never hear his northern accent again, never listen to him tell her how much he loved her, and never feel him inside her again. They would never share their love again, but Daenerys did her best to relive every moment they had shared._

_Daenerys found little sleep in the night, remaining within her lover’s strong arms. He had promised he would never love another as he loved her and she knew it wasn’t because he meant to join the Night’s Watch. She did the same, knowing this horselord she was promised to would take her as she had heard the Dothraki take their women. She did not tell Jon of those fears, knowing he would sacrifice himself to save her from such a fate. She wanted to tell him and came close dozens of times, only to hold her tongue and replace her words with the tears slipping down her cheeks._

_The morning was even worse than the night. Silence replaced their promises of love and the light sobs that did not make either of them feel better. After the sunlight beamed through her windows, Jon did not say a word. He knew it as well as she, they had little time left._

_When Jon’s hands fell to his boots as he sat on the edge of her bed, she closed her eyes, readying herself for their farewell. When she opened her eyes, Daenerys saw the pain on his face as he moved to stand from the bed they had shared and made for her door. Fearing to be parted from him, she rose with him, intertwining her fingers with his as they walked toward the doorway leading to the corridors of the manse she had called home for a year._

_“Say something,” Daenerys demanded as they stood silently before the door. The heavy lump that had once occupied her throat had returned and unshed tears were beginning to form in her eyes. She hated seeing the pain and misery on Jon’s face as he stared at the ground, away from her. “Please…”_

_“What is there to say?” Jon responded with some mix of anger, disappointment, and love in his voice. He asked her to run away with him and she said no. Daenerys dared to lift her fingers to his chin, forcing him to look at her. She wasn’t going to let him leave her like this._

_“I love you,” Daenerys vowed, desperate to find something poetic to say, but that was how she felt. She simply loved him and did not want him to leave, but he had to. “I love you Jon Snow. I will always love you.”_

_“I meant what I said. We can still be together. We can run away. I can protect you,” Jon replied, his voice nearly cracking as he promised her._

_“We can’t…,” Daenerys offered, causing Jon to close his eyes in defeat. She wanted to say more, but for some reason couldn’t. She watched her love come to terms with her rejection. Daenerys prayed he understood she was not rejecting him, but what their actions could mean for the ones they loved._

_“I love you Dany,” Jon said before pulling her flush against his hard muscles she could still feel underneath his tunic. Their kiss was searing and passionate. It was the best farewell they could give each other. Anymore words would only bring them pain and regret._

_When Jon broke away from her bruised lips, the sight of him ducking his head in shame as the tears fell down his face broke her heart. He said nothing more, turning away from her, retreating through the door, never to see her again._

_Daenerys thought their final night was what pain and sorrow felt like. She understood then, collapsing against the door Jon had walked through, she was wrong. Jon had honor, family, and a home, and he was willing to give it all up for her. She told him no and she cried as regret tore through her heart. She felt selfish and afraid. If she were only as brave as her lover, she would have said yes and run away with him, to have their own family in a house with a red door and a lemon tree._

_As Daenerys sat there, curled up against the door to her chambers, she thought of her future and Jon’s future. She thought of her past and his past. He was brave and was going to join the Night’s Watch. All her life, she had been afraid and always submitted to Viserys’ will. Daenerys decided she needed to be brave like her lover and found the strength within herself to find Jon._

_Quick on her feet, Daenerys ran through the halls of the manse and rushed out of its protective walls, hoping to go unnoticed by the guards. She had lost track of the time that had passed since Jon had left, but she clung to the hope that he was still there. The manse where Jon and Lord Stark were guests stood just down the road from Illyrio’s._

_Just when Daenerys found the dragon inside her, she lost her fire when she came upon the empty court yard of the manse. Jon was gone and so were the northmen he came with. She was too late and she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life._

Sitting upon her family’s throne, Daenerys put aside the painful memory as Lady Ashara Dayne approached. Daenerys cursed herself every time she thought of the morning she let Jon go. But now was not the time. One of her soldiers spotted a ship with the direwolf sigil painted on its sails and she knew she would finally see him again.

_I will not let him go this time. We will be together. He will be the King of the Seven Kingdoms and I will be his Queen. We will have the family we always deserved._

“They are coming now,” Ashara informed her as she climbed the stone stairs to stand beside her throne. “And he brought that damn wolf.” _Ghost!_

Daenerys smirked, remembering the little pup that she loved to hold. He was such a small thing then. Jon swore Ghost would grow the size of a pony. She did not believe him, thinking him mad when he told her. _I hope he still likes me._

“We could have received him when they reached shore,” Ashara suggested.

“No, it is better this way,” Daenerys replied, not wishing for all her men or his to see their reunion. Tyrion and Missandei were tasked with escorting Jon to the Throne Room and finding out if Jon had wed a Northern lady. _Perhaps I should have sent Ser Arthur or Ser Oswell. They have waited years to serve their King._

“Lady Olenna was asking to speak with you,” Ashara added.

“Tell her I am occupied with negotiations with the King in the North,” Daenerys said, not wishing to speak with her allies from the Reach or Dorne. They were restless in their search for revenge. Daenerys was determined to hold them off until Jon was returned to her and she could rely on his experience when it came to war.

Daenerys kept her eyes on the entrance to the Throne Room as she waited. She had waited years, but this felt even longer. She could not even begin to imagine what her children felt like. They did not even know what their father looked like. Part of her wanted to stand at the beach with Aemon and Alysanne to greet Jon, but she knew that would be unwise. There were many truths he would have to face and family he would have to meet.

The longer she waited and there was no sign of him, the more nervous she became. He had reached Dragonstone, but it still felt like he was thousands of miles away. She should have gone after him sooner in Pentos and Daenerys decided she would not make the same mistake again. _I need to see him. I need to touch him and know that this is true._

“He will be here, your Grace,” Ser Barristan Selmy cautioned her as she attempted to stand from her throne.

Daenerys usually followed the counsel of the Lord Commander of her Queensguard, but she felt compelled to ignore him in this instance. Before she could stand to go find Jon, Missandei entered with Tyrion. Her friend and advisor had a smile on her face. A simple nod from Missandei relieved Daenerys of any fears or worries she held.

Jon was still unmarried and saved for her. She never even considered what she would have done if he named another his queen. That was never a possibility. Not for herself or their children.

After Tyrion and Missandei took their places around the throne, joining her Queensguard and the ladies who had found her in Meereen, changing everything she thought she knew. She could feel her hands clenching the arms of the throne while her heart thrummed inside her chest. The anticipation was a cruel torture she wanted to end before she did something unqueenly.

Finally, she saw her Unsullied part at the end of the hall and her Dothraki bloodriders emerged, walking through with their arakhs in hand. They were overcautious, but she would forgive them as long as they did nothing foolish. Her eyes desperately searched for him, until her soldiers broke apart.

The moment Jon stepped inside the Throne Room, Daenerys felt their eyes connect. He looked just as she imagined. His beard was a little fuller and his face a little older, no longer looking like an untested warrior. What she did regret was the sight of his raven curls tied back, but she guessed she would quickly learn to like it this way.

“You stand in the presence…,” Missandei started, doing as Tyrion planned. Her Hand counseled caution and warned her Jon may have changed. She knew better, but complied with his wishes, knowing she needed to be better than her father. In order to be a good Queen, she needed to listen to her council. _Damn him. I know Jon and he is my King._

Missandei saw her glare and held her tongue, understanding her wishes. Daenerys rose from her seat, focused on Jon as she moved to join him before the throne. Her eyes did not leave him as she decided they needed to be alone. “Leave us.”

Grey Worm and Missandei were quick to follow her orders, while Tyrion looked hesitant, always wanting to have himself involved in everything of consequence. She narrowed her eyes at her Hand until he submitted and followed the Queensguard out of the Throne Room with Ashara Dayne.

“Dany…,” Jon let out when she turned back to face him at the bottom of the steps. She could hear the loving hitch in his voice and closed the distance between them, leaping into his arms. Their kiss was searing and devouring. Daenerys hadn’t kissed a man since Drogo and hadn’t kissed anyone like this, except for Jon.

Her lips and tongue battled with his while she cherished the feeling of her legs around his waist and his hands holding her ass. With every trace and every flick of her tongue, Daenerys ignored her need for air until it was Jon who finally parted their lips, staring into her eyes. It was then she finally noticed the scars across both his eyes. They were small, but they told her his life was not easy in the years they were apart. _How much has he suffered?_

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…,” Jon started to apologize, realizing he was a King and she a Queen. He did not know how she truly felt. _But he must. He sees that I still love him._

“You should,” Daenerys argued, forcing her lips on his, tasting the man she loved and had lost. She savored the feel of his lips and the strength of his muscles holding her in his grasp.

“Dany…I…I don’t know what to say,” Jon said when he finally settled her back on the stone floor. But he did not let her go. Jon still kept a hand on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. She greedily leaned into his loving embrace, wishing this day was saved, only for them. But it wasn’t.

“Nothing, you do not have to say anything, my love,” she returned, resting a hand on his gorget, wishing he would discard the armor. She wanted to feel the beat of his heart she fell asleep to the few nights they had shared together in Pentos. “I pray you did not forget about me,” she jested.

“The bastard of Winterfell could never forget Princess Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon replied with a smile on his face. “Forgive me, Queen Daenerys Targaryen,” he corrected.

She hated when he referred to himself as a bastard. It pained her because she could hear it in his voice. _He still thinks himself less. He still thinks himself a stain on Ned Stark’s honor. No, Jon, you are so much more._

Lost in her own thoughts, cursing Ned Stark for the decisions he had made and the ones he did not, Daenerys caught Jon looking over her shoulder. She realized he must be confused and knew she needed to tell him the truth. Just one of the truths. _Please do not let this tear us apart. I still love you and you love me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief reunion, but this will take place over multiple chapters and Jon still has a lot to learn. Next chapter is a big one for him and his future.
> 
> Please leave any feedback or comments below.


	4. Jon II

**Jon Snow**

“The bastard of Winterfell could never forget Princess Daenerys Targaryen,” Jon replied, admiring the ethereal beauty Daenerys still possessed. Her amethyst eyes and silver hair were just as he remembered. She was the woman he loved and still loved. Lost in his worship, he finally saw her look of offence. “Forgive me, Queen Daenerys Targaryen,” he corrected himself.

Jon wanted to look upon her face and feel her soft lips again, but was more than content with Daenerys burying herself into his chest as he accepted her embrace. They didn’t need to say any words in the moment. He was just happy they had found each other. _There are no words for how I feel._

As one hand rested on the small of her back, Jon lifted his other to Daenerys’ silver braid, refusing to let her go. He knew this was where they belonged. In this moment, Jon had forgotten about the Night King, the Army of the Dead, the Northern lords, and Cersei Lannister. It was only his love that filled his thoughts.

He cursed himself for ever fearing the worst. On the road to White Harbor and on ship sailing down the Narrow Sea, he considered the possibility Daenerys had changed. _She could have had a King. She could have forgotten about me. She could have lost our love. Crowns change people, but they did not change her. She is still Dany._

Jon was content to hold Daenerys like this in the Throne Room of Dragonstone until dusk, but he felt her small arms ease around him. With just inches between them, Jon took the moment to appreciate her beauty again. She looked beautiful and fierce in her dark blue dress with a silver chain holding her red cape with a three-headed dragon brooch. He imagined she looked like a true queen and conqueror upon one of the dragons he saw flying above the castle.

As much as he admired her complex braids and well-made wardrobe, all new to him, his mind inevitably turned to the woman underneath. Jon could still remember every inch of her perfect skin. He couldn’t help but imagine what she would look like, alone with him, in her chambers. He was sure her breasts were still perfect and her ass still felt as great as it did before, even underneath her garments. _I shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts. She is more than just a lover to me._

When Jon’s eyes returned to hers, he could tell she was thinking of something. She was making the same face he recalled from their time in Pentos. He wanted to ask her what was wrong and how he could help, but his attention was stolen by soft sniffles behind Daenerys. 

Drawn by the sound, having thought they were alone in the Throne Room, Jon looked over Daenerys’ right shoulder. He saw a beautiful woman who must have been near forty years of age with smooth black hair and dark grey eyes. Her face was tear-stricken and her chin quivered when he gazed upon her.

Jon did not know what to say. He was confused why everyone else left them alone, at Daenerys’ command, while this woman stayed behind. She looked sad, happy, and nervous. He could see she did not know what to do with her trembling hands while she tried to fight away tears slipping from her eyes. Something seemed familiar about her, but he could not reason why.

“Jon…,” Daenerys said, catching his gaze and turning her attention to the woman behind them. Jon watched Daenerys look to the strange woman, silently telling her something he did not understand. Daenerys knew her and was not offended by her presence, making Jon even more curious to the woman’s relation to Daenerys.

Daenerys returned her gaze to his, readying herself for something. He carefully watched her gather her wits before continuing, “Jon…this….this is Lady Lyanna Stark, your…”

“My aunt!” Jon answered, shocked by the truth before his eyes. If it were anyone else, he would have called them mad, but he trusted Daenerys and knew she would not make such a jest. _How many times have I walked past your statue in the crypts? How is this possible? Why did Father lie?_ “How?” was all he could let out as he hugged her.

His aunt looked nervous and overwhelmed, failing to find her voice. Jon assumed she was just happy to find another Stark, even if he knew he was not a true Stark. _How many years has she been hiding? Alone and with no one? Without family?_

“It is a long story,” his aunt answered in a near whisper against his chest. Whatever her reasons for hiding, Jon felt sorry for her. She seemed so relieved to finally find family again. “Jon…”

“I’m so sorry you were alone this entire time. All those years, I couldn’t imagine. You will have a place at Winterfell, I swear it. My sister isn’t going to believe this. We all thought you were dead. Father told us you…,” Jon talked faster with some excitement in his voice until Lyanna Stark pulled herself away from his embrace. He was so happy to find another Stark, but he saw a nervousness in her eyes that worried him. He looked to Daenerys who held an even more concerned look. _What is wrong?_

“Jon,” his aunt stopped him. “I am not your aunt. I…I am..I am your mother.”

“My mother?” he questioned with a look of confusion, turning to Daenerys for answers. _My mother? That doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Father would never._

As Jon looked back and forth between Lyanna Stark and Daenerys, he knew Lady Lyanna told no lies. He did not know her, but he knew Daenerys and she had never lied to him. He saw the truth. It was written on her face, in her truthful eyes that shared everything with him.

_If Lyanna Stark is my mother, that means…that means…Rhaegar Targaryen is my father. I am worse than a bastard. I am a bastard born of rape. And Daenerys… Daenerys is…._

Jon didn’t want to think it, shaking his head as he close his eyes, fighting away the tears he had held back since he was a child. He prayed to the old gods in the Winterfell godswood all his life for this day. All he wanted was a mother who loved him and now that he found her, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t take it all back.

_She is all I ever wanted since the moment I saw her. I love her. I still love her. And she is my blood. My aunt. This is worse than my brothers’ betrayal and all the times I was called bastard. I finally had her and now I cannot have her._

_And my mother. She isn’t some tavern whore. She is Lady Lyanna Stark. A beautiful, trueborn lady of noble birth. And she is alive. Why did she not keep me? Why did she hide? Why?_

“Jon,” Daenerys came to his side, cupping his jaw with both her hands, willing him to open his blurry eyes.

“Dany…,” he could barely let out her name, stifling his own self-pity and sorrow. He felt both angered and saddened. He had been lied to all his life, not only about his mother, but also his father. All his life, he thought Ned Stark was his father. He was a great lord, a brave warrior, a good father, and the most honorable man in the Realm. _My real father left his family and raped my mother._

“Don’t do this,” Daenerys pleaded through a wavering voice. Jon could tell she was upset by his reaction. His mother was even more upset. He wasn’t brave enough to look at Lady Lyanna Stark again. Jon was only able to look to the woman he loved, Daenerys Targaryen. It hurt him to know the truth and somehow, it hurt even worse to hear the pain he was causing Dany.

“Dany, my whole life…we…,” he didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he still loved her. As much as he wanted to tell himself it was wrong, Jon still loved her.

“We can. We are meant to be together. We always have been. Since the moment you were born a Prince of House Targaryen and I, a Princess of House Targaryen,” she said, holding his face so he couldn’t avert his eyes. _Prince? I am a bastard._

It was then, he finally looked to his mother for answers. She looked scared and nervous for his reaction. He felt anger and sorrow for the life he could have had, but he could not scream at her. Jon did not understand it, but something in her eyes told him there was more to her story than simply giving up her son.

“Rhaegar kidnapped you. He…he ra…,” Jon did not want to say the words. They only filled him with more rage, thinking of someone raping his mother, even if he had only just learned who she was.

“Your father didn’t rape me. He loved me and he loved you. He died for us and your brother and sister and Elia. He would be so proud of what you have done, what you have become,” his mother declared, stepping forward. _My brother and sister… I never knew them and never will._

“And you are not a bastard. I never want to hear that again. You are King Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name,” his mother added. He looked to Daenerys again, receiving a simple nod from her. Her sweet smile told him it was true. _My mother and father were wed. I have never been a bastard._

“Jaehaerys…,” he whispered his true name, unsure if he could ever answer to the name his mother gave him at birth. Jon’s true name led his thoughts to the circumstances of his birth and everything that followed. Everything he had heard of Robert’s Rebellion and Lyanna Stark’s fate was a lie. He did not like it, but he understood why Ned Stark kept the truth from him. What he could not reconcile was his mother’s reasons for leaving him. “Why?”

“Because I am the world’s worst mother. Because I was fool enough to believe my brother’s promises,” his mother understood what he was asking. Her voice was weak and he could tell by the lump in her throat she was close to breaking down completely. Jon wanted to be angry, but he felt protective and wanted to help his mother.

“I don’t understand,” Jon replied with a furrowed brow.

“My brother, Ned, promised to keep you safe and he did, until he sent you to the Wall,” his mother let out before the tears ran down her cheeks. Jon saw her pain and held her as she sobbed in his arms. “I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was keeping you safe and Ned betrayed me. He betrayed us. If I knew he would send you to the Wall, I would have never let you go. My son, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

They stayed like that, Jon holding his lady mother in his arms until her sobs stopped and his own tears dried on his face. He did not know what to truly think. Jon did not know whether he should be angry for her choices or thankful just to have his mother. What he did know was that he loved her and he would protect her.

“How did you find each other?” Jon asked when he finally sat on the steps before the throne with his mother and Daenerys on either side.

“We found Daenerys in Pentos, before you met,” his mother replied, compelling him to look into her eyes for answers. _You were there! That is why father sailed to Pentos. You could have come for me._ “I know. We should have told you the truth then. I saw you from afar. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I saw how happy you looked and Ned told me about your life in Winterfell. For years, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell have been working to gather alliances for you. We tried and we failed. After all those years, I was ready to meet you, but then I thought you would be happier in Winterfell. I was wrong.”

_Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent are alive? They must have been the Queensguard. And Ser Barristan the Bold._

“I worried for the life you would have in Essos, hunted by Robert’s assassins. I didn’t want that for you. Ned told me you would always have a place at Winterfell. He lied,” his mother fumed, turning her sadness into a small fiery scowl. Jon waited for his mother to calm herself and she continued, looking past him to Daenerys. “We were ready to take in Daenerys and Viserys, but knew Robert’s spies were watching them. It was only after we heard she was free of the Dothraki that we sought her out in Meereen.”

As he took it all in, Daenerys slid her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. Jon did not know he needed it, but he silently thanked Daenerys for giving him the strength and comfort to listen to his mother’s reasons for leaving him in the North. _I still love her. She is my blood and she is still the one I love._

“You should have told me. I should have had a choice. Everything would be different,” Jon argued, doing his best to contain the anger he had for his mother’s choices. But whatever anger he held for her, it paled in comparison to his anger for Ned Stark. _He lied to me. He was never going to tell me my mother’s name. Was it to protect his friend’s crown? To protect his family? Did he think I would wage a war for a crown?_

_If you told me in Pentos, I could have saved Dany. We could have been together. I would have had a mother and a wife, not the Night’s Watch and death._

“I do not expect you to forgive me. What I did was unforgiveable,” his mother replied, wiping away a stray tear with the sleeve of her dress. Every time he wanted to curse her, she did something to make him love her. He could see she loved him just as much as Lady Catelyn loved his brothers and sisters. _My cousins…they are my cousins._

“You did what you thought was right…what you thought was best,” Jon mused, thinking back to Maester Aemon’s advice. Jon smirked, remembering the old man’s words. _Kill the boy Jon Snow._

He was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Lyanna Stark was his mother. Jon reasoned they both made the hard choices, the ones they thought right. _How can I question her? She believed my uncle. She loves me. I can see it with my own eyes._

“It wasn’t what was best. Daenerys told me how Cat treated you. If she were still alive, I would slit her throat for Walder Frey myself,” his mother declared in a tone as cold as a winter wind. _She truly means it._

Jon turned from his mother to look to Daenerys. He wished she had not shared his stories from his childhood, but he knew he could only blame himself. Dany was the only person in the world he ever complained of Catelyn Stark to.

“What? I wasn’t going to lie to your mother. She wanted to know everything about you,” Daenerys said, seeing the look he gave her.

“It wasn’t so bad. I had it better than most,” he tried to comfort his mother.

“It was less than you deserved. You were a prince. You are our King,” his mother protested with a firm hand on his arm, emphasizing a birthright he never knew he had.

“But Dany…I have no claim…I do not want it. It is hers,” Jon said, wanting nothing to do with the Iron Throne. The lords of the North named him King in the North, a title he did not seek. He felt he had even less of a claim on the throne meant for his father.

“You are Rhaegar’s heir. You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne,” Daenerys said, squeezing his hand, mistakenly thinking that would be enough to change his mind. “Take it back with me, for our House. We can rule together. You are my King. I am your Queen. We were born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. We were always meant to be together.”

“Dany…,” he tried to argue before she captured his lips, reminding him how convincing she could be. Jon was afraid of this and the power she had over him, but he did not refuse. Her kiss was short, but it was passionate and told him how much she loved him. “I will serve you. You are my Queen.”

“Do not serve me. Rule with me. You were always a king. They named you King in the North with a bastard’s name. They chose you because they believe in you. I believe in you,” Daenerys replied with belief and confidence in her voice. “And so will the southern lords when we take back the Iron Throne, together.”

“Together,” Jon echoed as he rested his brow against hers, silently swearing he would take the Iron Throne for Daenerys. It was her dream and he would see it done. _We will defeat Cersei Lannister. We must, before the Night King and his army come._

“Dany…,” Jon readied to tell Daenerys of the White Walkers, praying she would not think him mad. Her lips on his prevented him from warning her of the threat beyond the Wall. When their lips parted, he tried to tell her, but kept silent as she stood from her spot on the steps and moved to stand in front of him.

“Come, there are two people I want you to meet,” Daenerys said, inviting him to join her. Jon returned to his feet, wondering who she wished to introduce him to. Seeing Dany was not going to say anything more, he looked to his mother for answers but found none. Instead, he saw Lady Lyanna Stark smile for the first time without tears or sorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the big reveal, Lyanna lives. There is still another surprise coming, but not as important as Lyanna. (Hint, someone had to be looking after the prince & princess while everyone was in the Throne Room). Chapter probably should have been longer, but I did not want to drag it out. Next chapter is the one many have been waiting for since Ch 1. And there will be more Jon & Lyanna interactions. Everything has not been answered. And for those who are waiting for an update to Targaryen Supremacy, one should be coming within the next ten days.
> 
> Please leave any questions, criticisms, comments, etc. below. (Hope this did not disappoint)


	5. Jon III

**Jon Snow**

Instead of returning through the grand doors at the entrance of the Throne Room, Daenerys led him to the corridor to their right. Before he could ask her one of the thousands of questions he had, three knights were on bended knee before him.

The knight in the center was an old man with white hair, but Jon could tell the knight was more than a worthy fighter. He was Ser Barristan Selmy. To his left and right were men with dark hair, appearing to be in their forties. The one to Ser Barristan’s right had a falling star etched on the shoulders of his armor and Jon knew he was none other than Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Recognizing the bat on the other man’s armor, Jon surmised he was Ser Oswell Whent.

“Your Grace, we have been waiting years to serve our rightful King. We were sworn to protect your family and we failed them. Please allow us to continue to serve in your Kingsguard and we promise, we will not fail you again,” Ser Barristan asked on bended knee, bowing his head when he was finished. They all did. Jon was left speechless, not knowing what to say. These were the great Kingsguard he heard stories of. Two, he had long thought dead by Ned Stark’s sword.

If it were years ago, when he was just a boy in Winterfell, he would have begged to serve as their squires. It felt odd and unearned, these legendary knights were pleading to serve him. Jon hated seeing northerners bending the knee to him. It felt even stranger, seeing these three knights on bended knee.

“You may rise, Ser Barristan Selmy,” Jon said after a small nudge from Daenerys, knocking him from his loss for words. “It would be my honor for you to serve as my Kingsguard.”

“This is Ser Arthur Dayne,” Daenerys spoke up, turning his attention to the tall Dornish knight to their left. The Sword of the Morning acknowledged with a simple, but somehow sure nod of his head. “And Ser Oswell Whent.”

“Thank you for protecting my mother. It is a debt I hope I can repay,” Jon said, almost feeling unworthy of leading such men. Even when he had thought them an enemy of House Stark, who died at his uncle’s hands, Jon respected their reputation. Whenever Ned Stark recounted the battle, he swore Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell fought with honor and great skill.

“There is no need to thank us. It was our honor and duty and you are our King,” Ser Arthur Dayne responded in a flat and unemotional tone. Jon sensed he was a serious man with little patience for unimportant matters. He liked him.

“There are still people you need to meet,” Daenerys declared, pulling on his arm. The Kingsguard bowed their heads and fell in behind them, keeping a respectful distance.

Jon was overwhelmed by it all as he walked the dark, brazier-lit corridors of Dragonstone, with Daenerys on one side and his mother on the other. He didn’t even have the ability to think of the Kingsguard who had just bent the knee and sworn to serve him. His mind was a mess with thoughts of Daenerys, his mother, Ned Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen, his long dead brother and sister, Elia Martell, and Rhaella Targaryen.

It wasn’t until they walked a few hundred feet from the Throne Room, Jon took note of the dragons carved into the stone walls. He looked back, reminded of the sigil he thought was his. Ghost silently followed behind him, with the Kingsguard another ten feet back, trusting his wolf was adequate protection. When he returned his gaze to the dragons, he wondered if he was truly a dragon.

As they started to pass the silent soldiers clad in light, black armor, he asked his mother about everything. She told him of Ned Stark’s promise to protect him in Winterfell and bring him across the Narrow Sea one day. She recounted his uncle’s promises and the life she thought she had spared him.

His mother’s tale hurt. She told him how she fell in love with his true father at the Tourney of Harrenhal and how they were secretly wed. Lyanna Stark was to be Rhaegar’s second queen. Jon learned of Elia Martell’s acceptance of the marriage and the confusion that followed his mother’s supposed abduction. Ravens with news of their marriage never reached Winterfell and his mother could not explain why. It was a mystery to her and Jon believed her.

After his mother finished her account of Robert’s Rebellion and the death of his Targaryen family, Jon listened to her speak of her time in the Free Cities. She frequently stopped herself, asking of his childhood, but Jon always insisted she continue. He wanted to hear everything and trusted Daenerys had told his mother everything he had told her in Pentos.

It was when they reached the main yard, outside the Stone Drum, that his mother informed him of their numerous failed plots to gather an army in Essos. Those they trusted did not have the gold or men to help and those they did not trust were all too willing to provide the gold and men needed to retake the Iron Throne. All the while, his mother was forced to conceal her identity, afraid Robert Baratheon would learn of her survival.

Just when Jon had barely come to terms with the fact that he was born a prince of House Targaryen, his mother revealed another secret. Passing through the main gate of the castle, she revealed it was not only Lady Ashara Dayne who lived with her and the two Kingsguard in Essos. Allyria Dayne, Ashara’s secret daughter with Ned Stark, had lived with them. His mother told him his cousin had sailed for Starfall shortly before he travelled to Essos. Allyria returned to them after hearing of Daenerys’ conquest of Slaver’s Bay.

Assuming Daenerys wished to introduce him to Lady Ashara Dayne and his cousin, Allyria Dayne, Jon was confused as to why Daenerys was leading them toward the dragons. He could see all three of them, perched along the cliffs with Blackwater Bay at their backs. The largest was black, with flecks of red in his scales. He did not know why, but he was sure that one belonged to Daenerys.

“You still haven’t told me how you got the dragons,” he said to Daenerys as he watched the green dragon roar and snap at the cream-scaled dragon. They looked strong and vicious, yet somehow calm with one another.

“A long and unpleasant tale…,” Daenerys replied with a hint of sadness. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes gazing in the distance. Jon wanted to ask, but held his tongue, fearing he would ruin whatever happiness they had found with his questions.

“I’m sorry. You do not have to tell it,” Jon replied, finding her hand and gently squeezing it. He hated seeing her sad, but when she looked into his eyes, it wasn’t just sadness he saw. Jon saw a nervousness in her eyes, but he could not understand why. _What else could there be? I learned my mother is Lyanna Stark and my father, Rhaegar Targaryen. I learned I am the heir to the Iron Throne and I have a cousin, Allyria Dayne. What else is there that I do not know?_

As they crested a small hill on the uneven grounds near the cliffside, Jon followed Daenerys’ eyes back toward the dragons. It wasn’t just the dragons he saw. A small pool of water stood between them and the winged beasts. The surface of the water was a blue-grey shade mirroring the sky above Dragonstone, sitting nearly still.

Across the pool, Jon saw two Dornishwomen, both black of hair with olive skin. He knew they must have been Ashara Dayne and her daughter, Allyria. Jon smiled, ready to meet his cousin and the lady his uncle had once loved. His smile faded when he saw what was causing the small ripples in the otherwise undisturbed water.

A dozen paces away from the women stood two little children. Jon wasn’t sure, but he guessed they were no more than five years of age. The girl had flowing silver hair, flying freely in the winds rolling off the sea. She wore a red dress that reminded Jon of the colors of House Targaryen. The boy throwing pebbles into the water next to her wore simple black breeches and a black doublet that matched his hair.

Jon felt like cursing himself as he tried to smile and be happy for Daenerys. He had dreamt of their future all those years ago and the life they could have had. Those dreams included a girl with Daenerys’ silver hair and ethereal eyes. They included a son of his own, he could teach the sword. Sometimes, when he slept alone in the unforgiving cold of Castle Black or huddled near a fire at his post atop the Wall, he had thought of the family they could have had.

The little prince and princess playing near the water were a cruel reminder of his mistake, leaving Daenerys and returning to Westeros. Jon wanted to be the father of her children and not some Dothraki horselord. He started to wonder if she had loved the khal and if he treated her better than he had imagined, but quickly dismissed such thoughts, not wanting to upset Daenerys. _I will love them and protect them. They are her children. They are my blood._

“Jon…,” Daenerys started in a trembling voice. Assuming she saw through his sorrow and regret, Jon knew he had to say something. He did not want her to feel guilt or shame or regret for not having children with him.

“I am happy for you,” he said, almost lost in her amethyst eyes. “I know you always dreamed of having children. The future of our House.” Even as the words escaped his lips, it still felt strange acknowledging he was not a Snow or a Stark, but a Targaryen.

“Jon…,” Daenerys repeated, this time seizing his arm, as if readying him for some terrible news. “They are yours…You are their father.”

“What?” was all he could let out as his eyes found their way to the children on the other side of the pool. Jon did not know what to say or what to do. Watching the girl dance without song and the boy continue to throw pebbles into the water, Jon questioned whether he had heard her right. But the longer he looked at the children, even from as far away as they stood, he knew it to be true. It wasn’t just the children’s lack of Dothraki features. It was something inside him, telling him they were his.

“They are our children,” Daenerys replied with a noticeable lump in her throat.

“What…What are their names?” Jon asked as he began to realize his heart was beating out of his chest.

“Aemon and Alysanne,” Daenerys answered him, leaning into his side with her arms firmly wrapped around his torso. He prayed she did not think he would retreat or abandon them. Jon knew then, he would do anything to protect them, even if they were not his. Just being Daenerys’ children was all that mattered, but he could not lie to himself, knowing they were his meant more. “I remembered your favorite knight as a child was Aemon the Dragonknight and Good Queen Alysanne was my favorite queen.”

“They are perfect,” Jon said, swelling with pride that his son was named for the Dragonknight, and now more importantly, his family who served with him at Castle Black. And he felt just as prideful of his daughter, Alysanne. Jon thanked the old gods his little princess looked to have inherited all of her features from her mother. “Do they know about me?”

As he asked Daenerys, wondering what all his children did or didn’t know of him, he saw his daughter halt her spinning and dancing. She was looking at them and Jon felt the heavy lump in his own throat, seeing his daughter look to him for the first time. Before Daenerys could answer, Alysanne screamed, “Father!”

The rest of the world had disappeared to Jon as he carefully watched his daughter run past the two Dornishwomen, slowly making her way around the pool’s edge. He could feel Daenerys holding onto him with greater strength, but he did not take his eyes off Alysanne closing the distance between them. When his daughter was only a dozen paces away, he barely managed to glimpse the amethyst eyes she had inherited from her mother before his eyes grew blurry and he dropped to his knees.

“Father!” Alysanne cried with joy again as she collided into his chest, wrapping her small arms around his neck. Jon did his best to fight away the tears, but all his strength was broken by his daughter’s loving embrace. He was only allowed a moment to hold his daughter in his arms before he felt Aemon crashing into his side.

For years, Jon thought the greatest moment of his life was when he first met Daenerys in Pentos. With Alysanne and Aemon in his arms, he knew that had changed. He sailed for Dragonstone, longing to see Dany again. He felt unworthy, not only seeing her again, but learning the truth of his birth, meeting his mother, and holding his children in his arms.

“Father, don’t leave,” Aemon already pleaded, wounding Jon’s heart. His son’s fear and worry already tore at him.

“I’m not leaving you or your sister, I promise,” Jon swore, pulling on his children a little tighter as he kissed Alysanne’s silver mane and Aemon’s raven curls. Before he knew it, Daenerys had joined them on the ground, hugging both their children as she leant her brow against his.

“Promise?” Alysanne’s voice trembled.

“I promise,” Jon returned. _This is my home. Not Winterfell. Not any longer._

“Mother says you won the battle. You are King of Winterfell!” Aemon declared with a smile after they finally broke apart their family’s embrace. Part of Jon wished he could wrap his arms around the three people he loved the most again.

“Aye, there was a battle,” Jon said with a chuckle, hoping his son did not ask for stories or details. The mere mention of the Battle of the Bastards reminded him of how he failed Rickon and lost thousands of men outside the walls of Winterfell.

“Aemon, your father does not want to speak of battles when he has just returned to us,” Daenerys said, messing their son’s hair.

“Grandmother says there is snow in Winterfell…I have never seen snow,” Alysanne admitted, clearly showing she longed to see the North.

“When I left, the first winter snows were falling. I will take you there one day, I swear it,” Jon said, kissing his daughter’s brow. _If there is still anything left of the North. If we have won._

“Ghost!” Alysanne giggled as his direwolf nudged his way through and licked his daughter’s face. Jon looked to Daenerys, who shared his joy at the sight of their daughter getting acquainted with Ghost. He was glad Alysanne was not frightened by the wolf that made her appear even smaller than she was.

“You said he was small!” Aemon said, walking between Jon and Daenerys to pet the direwolf’s snout. Aemon showed no fear, like his sister. Jon was shocked at first, but reasoned they had spent years around dragons.

“The dragons were small once,” Daenerys laughed, joining the children, scratching Ghost behind his ear. Jon found that hard to imagine. The beasts lingering a few hundred feet away were anything but small.

“Come, Father!” Alysanne insisted, pulling on his hand with more strength than he expected from such a little girl. Jon knew the moment he saw her, he would never deny her wishes, and let her lead him toward the pool.

Jon wondered what she wanted to show him until he realized Alysanne held no fear for the dragons. As they walked along the water’s edge, he looked back to find his son. To his delight, Aemon caught up with them just as Jon looked over his shoulder. Daenerys and Lyanna Stark were following close behind.

Ashara Dayne and her daughter passed them, sharing friendly nods and smiles. Jon wanted to speak with his cousin, but his children were more important and demanded all his attention. _They need me. I have failed them, all these years. I failed them before they were even born._

“Drogon is the big one,” Aemon said, pointing to the black scaled dragon. Drogon seemed more interested in the charred bones laid about him, or so Jon thought.

“His name is Rhaegal,” Alysanne said as they stood before the dragon with green scales and golden eyes. The dragon lowered his snout close enough for Jon to feel the heat coming from its scales. He looked to Alysanne, wondering what he should do. Jon knew he was a Targaryen, but still felt nervous around the beast. Alysanne did not share his fear, standing on the tips of her toes to touch Rhaegal with her fingers.

Jon decided to follow his daughter’s lead and trace his fingers over Rhaegal’s snout. The dragon purred and leaned into his hand, showing no hesitation to accept him. _This is madness._

“I named him, after my brother, your father,” Daenerys said, reaching for Rhaegal’s scales next to his own hand. _She looks like the Valyrian Queens in the tales._

“Grandfather!” Alysanne declared, looking prideful of her lineage.

“That’s Viserion,” Aemon said after the cream scaled dragon let out a loud roar before taking to the sky. _Viserys._ “Mother says I cannot ride him until I’m old enough.”

“Who says Viserion is yours?” Alysanne protested.

“He likes me more,” Aemon argued. Jon attempted to stifle his laughter, looking to Daenerys shaking her head, telling him this argument was not the first. For the first time in his life, Jon felt a fatherly instinct and knelt on the ground, pulling both of his children to him.

“I am sure Viserion likes you both. One day, you will both ride a dragon, I am sure of it,” Jon spoke truthfully. _They are destined for great things. I know it._ “Rhaegal would be glad to have one of you as his rider.”

“But mother said he is yours,” Alysanne said. _Mine?_ It never occurred to Jon he would one day ride a dragon. For most of his life, he never considered one would return, let alone three. Even when he heard whispers of Daenerys conquering Slaver’s Bay, he thought the dragons were sailors’ tales, meant to exaggerate her exploits.

Considering his daughter’s words, Jon looked to Dany. She did not offer any explanation or words of disagreement. Alysanne spoke truly. _I cannot ride a dragon, can I?_

“Alysanne is right. You were meant for this, my son. You were raised a Stark, but you are a Targaryen,” his mother said in a soft, but sure tone as he stared into Rhaegal’s golden eye. _I was raised a Snow._ Jon still felt some hurt, learning of his mother leaving him in Westeros, but he could not hold onto the resentment and hate, even if he tried. All he ever wanted was a mother and now he had her. And she was a grandmother his children seemingly adored. Jon decided the past was the past and nothing could be done about it.

Foolishly deciding to accept his mother’s opinion, he reached out to Rhaegal again, but the dragon withdrew. Noticing Daenerys pull Alysanne away, Jon picked Aemon off the ground so they could avoid Rhaegal’s tail as he turned around to take flight with Drogon and Viserion already circling overhead. _Perhaps I am not meant to be a dragonrider. Aemon and Alysanne are. I know it._

“Can we go to the stables?” Aemon pleaded with Daenerys as Jon set him back down on the ground. Daenerys looked displeased with their son’s request. Jon was thankful he was not the one being asked. If his children had asked him anything, he would acquiesce.

“Please!” Alysanne added to Aemon’s plea. Seeing Daenerys resolve hold firm, Alysanne turned to Jon with her big violet eyes and pouting lips. Jon knew then he was doomed. Alysanne already knew she could get straight to his heart and demand anything she wished.

Jon looked to Daenerys, silently telling her he wished to spend the day with their children however they preferred. Daenerys lost her apprehension, seemingly still sharing the bond they had formed in Essos that allowed them to understand what the other was thinking. “Alright,” Daenerys said, earning cheers of victory from the prince and princess.

“I get to ride with Father!” Alysanne cried, running the few feet between them, crashing into his leg. She held onto him as if she feared he would abandon her or never see him again. Jon picked her up and held her as she wrapped her arms around his neck again. “I promise to be good and Grandmother says I am a good rider.”

His mother agreed, nodding her head. Jon laughed, realizing one of the few things he did know about his mother was that she was a good rider and enjoyed racing through the Wolfswood. He was sure she had taught his children how to ride ponies by now, even at their young age.

“I want to, too!” Aemon added.

“You both can. You can take turns,” Daenerys said, grabbing their son’s hand as they walked back toward the castle. Jon smirked after Alysanne grumbled with displeasure, hearing her twin have his way.

Jon wanted to imagine his future with Daenerys and their family as they marched toward the castle of Dragonstone. He wanted to picture the life they could have and what it could be like with more children roaming the halls of Dragonstone. Lingering in the back of his mind was still the threat of the Night King and his army. When the thought crept into his mind, he quickly pushed it aside, promising himself he would not ruin his first day with his children with dark words and an ill mood. _This day will be for them. On the morrow, I will speak with Dany._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I needed to finish my update for Targaryen Supremacy. Jon has now met his children and I wish I could have done it more justice. I did consider a talk between Jon & Lyanna going over the Rebellion & her time is Essos, but I think it would have wasted time and not added too much to the story. Next chapter will be Dany during the night of Jon's return, so I am sure you can guess what will happen and the revelations that will come with it. There may also be a war council the morning after, but that is likely another chapter.
> 
> Again, please leave any questions, criticisms, comments, etc. below.


	6. Daenerys III

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“I never should have left,” Jon said as she stood at his side from the edge of their solar, carefully watching their children chase Ghost in endless circles. Aemon and Alysanne were still showing no signs of tiredness. If Daenerys was being honest with herself, she knew they could stay up the entire night if allowed. It did not matter because this was the happiest she had felt since she gave birth to her children. Her family was finally whole.

“You didn’t know. How could you have known?” Daenerys tried to protect Jon from himself. She knew a storm of self-hatred and regret raged beneath his grey eyes. He had quite the talent for smiling at their children while brooding on the inside, Daenerys thought as she looked upon the scars marking his face. He still had not told her how he got them.

Jon still had not told her many things. She had so many questions. Daenerys wanted to know of his time in Winterfell after sailing from Pentos. She wanted to hear of his great deeds and accomplishments as a ranger of the Night’s Watch and later, Lord Commander. Even worse, she wanted to know why he cast aside his vows and reclaimed Winterfell. Lady Melisandre was vague in her telling of the war for the North and provided little detail regarding her love.

Despite Jon setting foot in the Throne Room before midday, they had not spoken of his journey. Most of their conversations centered on his true origins and Lyanna’s tale. Even that was not given its justice, for most of the day was saved for their children, though she would never complain of that. Seeing Jon become the father he was meant to be warmed her heart. Aemon and Alysanne finally had their father, a role her Queensguard could never fill.

“That doesn’t matter. I should have stayed, for you,” Jon said with a broken voice, filled with sorrow. Daenerys tugged on his gambeson that smelled of the North, or so she thought. She wanted to make Jon feel as safe as he made her feel when he held her in his arms. “I failed you, and them.”

“You didn’t,” Daenerys said, lifting her fingers to touch his bearded jaw so she could turn his gaze to herself. Nodding to the nearest couch, Daenerys continued, “Come, sit.”

Taking advantage of the time she had while her children were occupied with Ghost and not Jon, she sat her King down to tell him everything. She told him of Viserys’ continued cruel treatment and his eventual death. She recounted her wedding and the dark night that followed. Many dark nights followed and with every telling, she saw Jon’s anger come forth. Part of her wished Viserys were alive to see it, to see what waking the dragon truly meant. Daenerys only let such thoughts linger for so long before squeezing Jon’s hand to tell him she was alright and there was no need to let the children see him like he was.

Spending as little time as she could regarding Khal Drogo and the Dothraki, Daenerys told Jon everything she could remember of the night her dragons were born. Daenerys told him how they sung in the morning, clinging to her flesh, and roaring in protection of their mother. She told him why she named Drogon for the warlord who raped her. Her dragons were small and Ser Jorah was only one knight. The khalasar needed to believe in her and they needed to believe she loved Drogo, that she was one of them. It was actually the first time in years she thought of origin of her dragon’s name.

After her tale of the Dothraki Sea and Red Waste, she told Jon of the betrayal she faced in Qarth. She told him how fast their babes grew in her arms as she sailed for Astapor and marched on Yunkai. Jon asked little questions of her conquests. Mostly, he looked upon her face with pride and devotion.

When she spoke of her mistakes and regrets in Meereen, he always assured her she was not wrong. He told she did what she thought was right. Jon told her she was a good Queen. That made her smile. _He would tell me I am the greatest queen that ever lived no matter what I had done._

As much as she told him of ruling and keeping the peace, she spent thrice as much time telling of their children’s life in the Great Pyramid. Hearing of their first steps and words pained Jon. She noticed when she spoke of Alysanne or Aemon, Jon would always turn his eyes to them as they continued to chase after the white-furred direwolf.

An hour must have passed before Aemon leapt onto the small space between herself and Jon as she finished her tale of leading all of the Dothraki from Vaes Dothrak. Alysanne followed, but unlike her brother, she jumped into Jon’s arms. _She found the path to his heart the moment he laid eyes on her._

Not long after that, she informed Jon of the Battle of Meereen and her journey from the Bay of Dragons to Dragonstone. When she mentioned Melisandre, she picked up on the displeasure poorly hidden on his face. Daenerys did not push him for answers, suspecting he would tell her in time of his distrust of the red priestess.

“Can we go riding again?” Alysanne asked, nuzzling her head into her father’s chest.

“Your father and I have a great many things to do on the morrow,” Daenerys warned her daughter. As much as she wished she could dismiss her advisors and sworn swords to watch her children play and be with Jon, she had responsibilities to their House and the Seven Kingdoms.

“Please!” Alysanne added, looking to Jon, expecting him to crumble under her charm.

“Another day, my little Princess. I promise,” Jon said, leaving a small peck on Alysanne’s brow.

“It is time you find your beds,” Daenerys said after seeing Aemon’s eyes struggling to stay open.

“I still need to show Father my swords,” Aemon argued, doing his best to stay awake.

“No,” Daenerys replied in a firm tone as she stood on her feet.

“Listen to your mother. You can show me tomorrow,” Jon said, lifting their son off the couch. Aemon did not argue, somewhat to her frustration. She wondered how long it would last. Her children had spent years hearing about their father and praying for the day Jon would return to them. _It will be several moons before they revolt against his commands._

“Where are their chambers?” Jon asked, holding Aemon while Alysanne clasped his free hand.

“This way,” Daenerys nodded toward the door. With Lyanna, Daenerys led Jon out into the corridor to find the children’s room only a dozen paces away. All three of the Kingsguard were posted outside the royal quarters this night with another dozen Unsullied standing at the end of the corridor.

When Ser Oswell opened the door for her, Daenerys led Jon through the children’s solar, toward Aemon’s bedchamber. The prince was far more tired than his sister and Daenerys sensed Alysanne would not tolerate him having the last word with Jon before falling asleep.

“This is Aemon’s room,” Daenerys stated the obvious, seeing several wooden swords strewn across the floor. The small table beside his bed had several dragons carved from wood. She watched Jon gently lay Aemon upon the bed and pull the warm furs up to his chin. It reminded her they were no longer in Meereen. _I will miss the warmer nights, but I will not miss being alone._

“There you go lad,” Jon whispered, making sure the furs were secured and keeping their son warm. “On the morrow, after your mother and I are finished with our duties, I will come find you. Your grandmother says you are quite good in the practice yard. Perhaps I can show you a few things. Would you like that?”

“Aye,” Aemon nodded, sounding almost just like his father. Daenerys smiled as Jon kissed him on the brow and bid him goodnight. Alysanne was next and Daenerys feared a coming struggle. She would not be surprised if her daughter begged to stay with them for the night and sleep on their bed. There were the occasional nights in Meereen she allowed her children to sleep in her bed. They would come to her chambers in tears, crying for the father they never knew.

“I think it is time I retire,” Lyanna said as they crossed the solar to Alysanne’s room, halting before her door. Daenerys watched Lyanna hug Jon with the fierce love a mother held for her son. She was once skeptical of Lyanna’s love for Jon, but came to understand her feelings were true after their first few moons in Meereen. “I’m so proud of you. Your father would be so proud. I’ll see both of you in Great Hall for breakfast?”

“I was thinking we would just have it in our quarters,” Daenerys answered, pleased to able to refer to her quarters as hers and Jon’s.

“Very well then,” Lyanna replied, kissing Jon on the cheek before retreating into the hallway.

Alysanne was quick to pull on Jon’s hand and drag him to her bedchamber. Daenerys hurried to find her daughter’s nightgown and prepare her for bed. When her daughter was ready and climbed into her bed, Daenerys pulled on her covers and kissed her goodnight.

“I love you Father,” Alysanne said after Jon left a kiss on her brow.

“I love you too,” Jon swore. Daenerys could hear it in his voice. He wasn’t quite ready to leave them yet. Aemon and Alysanne had not left his sight since the moment he laid eyes on them. He loved them and wanted to make up for the time stolen from them. It made Daenerys sad, but it also made her happy, that Jon cared so deeply and was not afraid to be their father.

“Please, stay! I’m scared of the dark,” Alysanne begged, grabbing Jon’s hand to stay. Daenerys could not stop herself from rolling her eyes at the predictable act.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Daenerys laughed, brushing her fingers through her daughter’s silver hair. “She is not afraid of the dark. She never was. Alysanne, you must get your rest and your father must have his rest. We will wake you in the morning for breakfast, now go to sleep.”

Daenerys was unsure if it was her words or Jon’s whisper into their daughter’s ear, but Alysanne relented. She thought Jon was going to keep a watch on their daughter until she fell asleep. “I’ve missed so much of their life. I should have been there,” Jon whispered as Alysanne’s eyes grew heavy with sleep.

“You’re here now. That is what matters,” she said as she rounded the bed, pulling him from his watch. While she dreamed of the day Jon would learn of their children, Daenerys felt her selfishness overcoming her. The rest of the night would be saved for them and them alone.

After Jon carefully closed the door to the children’s chambers so as not to wake them from their real or feigned sleep, Daenerys turned toward their chambers. She only made it three steps before she realized Jon wasn’t beside her. Wondering what was wrong, she turned back to see him turning in the other direction.

“Where are you going? Our chambers are this way,” she asked, understanding he may have lost his sense of direction in the castle. It took Daenerys several days to learn the halls and corridors of Dragonstone.

“I didn’t want to…,” Jon started before she closed the distance between them to capture his lips, reminding herself what it felt like to be with someone she loved. With Drogo, she did what she had to do to survive and protect the babes growing inside her. With Jon, she felt safe and loved.

“My honorable fool,” Daenerys laughed as she ran her fingers through his beard, tracing his jaw. “I have waited six years to see your face again. I’ve waited six years to be with you again. I’m not spending another night alone.”

Jon moved forward to capture her lips, but held himself back. She did not understand his hesitation until she remembered the Kingsguard still looming behind them. Impatient to have him again, Daenerys grabbed his hand and pulled him to their chambers.

The moment the door was closed behind them and the peering eyes were gone, Daenerys felt Jon’s hands on her ass, lifting her in the air. She was wet for him, ready to be taken by her King. With her legs wrapped around his waist and his tongue plunging into her mouth, she felt her back hit the wall.

While Jon had her pinned against the wall, she thrust her hips, wanting him to be inside her. Daenerys savored his taste, but her satisfaction only lasted so long. Finally breaking apart for air, Daenerys looked into Jon’s eyes, “Take me to our bed.”

“As my Queen commands,” Jon said in his northern accent that still made her wet. As he promised, he carried her through the solar and into their bedchambers, never taking his eyes of hers. He was kind and gentle, as she remembered, lying her upon their bed. Daenerys was ready for him to take her, but his small step backwards gave her pause.

“What is it?” Daenerys asked as she watched the smile on his face fall into one filled with sorrow.

“I…I do not deserve you,” Jon said, shaking his head with unshed tears in his eyes.

“You do deserve me. What are you talking about?”

“I was with someone…I laid with another. I never thought I would see you again, I never thought…,” Jon said before she moved to the edge of the bed. “I betrayed you.”

“You didn’t betray me,” Daenerys said, understanding there was no hope for him in the Nights Watch. It hurt, but she understood. She had considered Daario’s advances once, but decided to refuse him. She wondered if it were not for Aemon and Alysanne and her hope of one day being a family, she would have accepted the sellsword into her bed.

“I did,” he argued.

“You didn’t,” Daenerys promised, feeling her own tears ready to spill. She hated seeing Jon like this. Cupping his face with her hands, she brought his face down until his brow was resting against hers. “This other woman, is she in Winterfell?”

“She is dead,” Jon said. Daenerys pulled back to look upon his face, silently asking him what happened. “I joined the wildlings, to spy on them. To kill their king if I had the chance. After they learned I was still loyal to the Watch, she put three arrows in me….She died at Castle Black.”

“Did you…?” Daenerys began, understanding if he fell in love with her. It would hurt, but she would understand. _He had no hope of seeing me again._

“No. It wasn’t what I feel for you. I tried, but I couldn’t love her,” Jon said with a sadness in his voice. “Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Jon. I love you and I know you love me,” Daenerys said, taking his lips for herself again. She was careful to undo his gambeson and rid him of his clothes while she kissed him. Slowly, but surely, she unfastened his gambeson until all that remained was a light tunic. When she moved to take off his tunic, she felt his hands stop her.

“Daenerys…,” Jon whispered in a shaky voice, scaring her. _I thought the wildling girl was the worst of it. What is he afraid of?_ “You never asked why I left the Nights Watch.”

“I knew you would tell me when the time was right,” Daenerys said. _But why now?_

“My brothers, they betrayed me. I let the free folk through the Wall, to protect them,” Jon began, echoing Lady Melisandre’s words. _Protect them from what?_ “One night, my steward came to my quarters, told me a man had come to Castle Black with news of my Uncle Benjen. I hoped he was alive and went with my steward to find out what I could. And they…”

“They what?” she asked when he stopped. Instead of answering her, Jon lifted his tunic with two trembling hands until it was over his shoulders. Daenerys gasped in horror, seeing what Jon’s men did to him. Deep scars painted his stomach and one large cut laid over his heart.

"How did you…?” Daenerys. _How did you survive?_

“I didn’t,” Jon confirmed what she had suspected and feared.

“The Night’s Watch vows are for life,” Daenerys remembered what Jon had told her before leaving Pentos. _I should have known. Jon would never break his vows, not even for a crown or Winterfell._

“Melisandre brought me back. When I returned, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be alive…,” Jon said, scaring her. _How can you say that?_ Daenerys was forced to lift her eyes from the hideous scars left by traitors, catching the fear and doubt that still lingered in his eyes. “I do now.”

“Are they dead?” Daenerys fumed after staring at the scars marking his body. She could not recall a time she felt such anger. She hated these brothers of the Nights Watch more than Drogo, Viserys at his end, the slavers of Meereen, and the last of the Dothraki khals. _They deserve to burn, each of them. They deserve a fiery death a thousand times over._

A simple nod from Jon told all she needed to hear. She surmised he gave them deaths by sword or hanging. Daenerys thought their probable fates were far too kind for their crime, but she said nothing. She saw Jon did not want to speak of it anymore and she would not push him. It was his tale and his suffering. Daenerys did not want him to relive the pain he experienced.

When Daenerys moved closer to lay her fingers upon the scar across his heart, she stopped herself and retreated her hand. The sight of the scars did not repulse her, but she flinched before she could touch them and make them real. Part of her still hoped this was some terrible nightmare and Jon had not been murdered by his own men.

“Dany, we do not have to…I can…,” Jon offered, making Daenerys hate herself for her actions. _He thinks I do not want him._

“No,” Daenerys said, this time ghosting her fingers over the scar on his chest. He tried to hold her back, but she forced her way through his defenses. When her fingers fell to the scars on his stomach, she brought her lips to his chest, hoping her love would take away any pain Jon still felt.

Daenerys did not have long to cure his pain. She soon felt his fingers lifting her chin, bringing grey and violet together once again. Her eyes danced back and forth, mimicking his own. She told him she loved him and she wanted to be with him. They did not need words. _I know him and he knows me._

Determined to not let anything else stand in her way, Daenerys stood from the bed and began to undress. She was not slow about it, but she certainly was not in the rush she found herself the first time they made love. It did help that Jon leant his hands, carefully discarding her smallclothes when they were all that remained.

Like their first time, the hungry look he gave her made Daenerys wet for him. Jon looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. While his hands still remained on the soft skin of her hips, his eyes drank in the sight of her breasts and wet cunt. The longer he stared, the more she wanted him inside her.

“Dany…,” Jon said in a near whisper. She could tell he wanted to worship her with complimentary words, but he did something better. His hands moved from her hips to ass, pulling her closer to him. Before she could let out a small yip, his lips were suckling one breast while his hand teased the other.

“Oh…Jon…,” she nearly cried as his teeth grazed her nipple. It had been years since she had been loved like this. Not since Jon had a man cared for her as a husband should. Drogo took her as the Dothraki took the women they raped until she braved to look upon his face. No matter how many times she feigned her love for Drogo, making him a gentler lover, he never replaced Jon. _No one ever will._

With hooded eyes blinding Daenerys in the bliss she had not felt in years, she ran her fingers through Jon’s raven hair until she found the leather tie holding his curls back. When his mouth came to her other breast, she cast aside the tie binding his hair and felt the raven curls she remembered come free.

As much as she loved the feeling of Jon worshipping her breasts, her cunt ached for him. She was ready to give him the hint with a slight downward push of his head, but Jon read her thoughts and started his trail of kisses down her stomach. Quickly making his way past her navel, she felt his lips and tongue pass through her thatch of silver curls to her lower lips.

He remembered exactly how she liked it, teasing and torturing her folds with his tongue tracing along their edge. Occasionally, he would move to kiss her inner thighs before returning to her cunt. Her soft whimpers and moans started the moment he attacked her nub. Every flick and every circle of her clit was like thunder reverberating through her body as his hands kneaded her cheeks.

The longer he pleased her, the more Daenerys begged for him to be inside her. It was only after the tenth time she realized she was speaking in High Valyrian and the words meant nothing to him. All Jon heard was the fruits of his labor, soft Valyrian words serving as a testament to his skills. _I will need to teach him our mother tongue._

“Jon…I need you…,” Daenerys started, but faltered when Jon’s strong hands lifted her ass and dropped her onto the silk sheets covering the feathered bed. He was still gentle, but somehow more forceful with his lovemaking. He was surer of himself, as was she. Jon only reinforced this belief when his hands spread her thighs wide and he quickly discarded the breeches hiding his perfect cock from her admiring eyes.

Daenerys thought she should return the favor and pleasure his length with her mouth, but greedily submitted to her body’s will and let Jon climb on top of her. She was ready to finally have her love fuck her. Instead, Jon took the moment to gaze upon her face, running a hand through her silver hair. She did the same, liking how he had changed, but still remained her Jon. The somewhat thicker beard and light scars across his eyes did not change him. He was still the man she fell in love with.

Eventually deciding she could no longer be parted from him, she reached for his hard cock and stroked his length several times before he removed her hand. Daenerys felt the anticipation building inside her chest, hearing the sound of her own heartbeat. And with that anticipation came the feeling of the tip of Jon’s cock teasing her wet folds. _How does he have this much self-control? I need you inside me._

Again, he must have read her mind and followed her wishes. A soft moan escaped her lips the second his cock was buried inside her cunt. He was perfect for her, slowly moving his way deeper until he could go no further.

As one hand fisted her braided hair and the other grabbed her hip, Jon began to thrust into her cunt. He was slow and patient, easing himself into a steady rhythm. To her delight, Daenerys’ ears were filled with the sound of their skin colliding and her moans turning into cries of his name. She needed him to go faster.

“Jon…I need you…faster,” she begged once, turning her lover from a hungry wolf into a tireless dragon pushing his cock deeper and harder into her core. Every blow made her want him even more and she let Jon know, digging her nails into his flesh, surely drawing blood on his back.

“Gods, Dany, you’re so…,” Jon tried to let out with the words failing on his lips. He was relentless, taking her to her peak as her walls began to close. Through her half-hooded eyes, she could see he was nearing his own climax. _I want us to cum together._

Wanting to reward him with the true sounds of her ecstasy, Daenerys withdrew a hand from his back and went for her clit. Forgetting what a proper lover Jon was, she found her King had already moved in anticipation of her action, circling her clit with one hand while the other still clutched her hair.

The feeling of his cock pulsing within her cunt as her walls closed further and further was the final breaking of the dam. Daenerys could feel the wave of pleasure course through her body, arching her back and fisting the sheets around her without any sense of control. His name was on her lips when she managed not to sob as he spilled inside her with his warm seed.

It was in the final moments of their passion, Daenerys opened her eyes to see his grey eyes replace the stars that had painted her vision. Jon was still recovering through shuddered breaths, staring down at her after nuzzling into her neck after cumming inside her. _Let his seed take root. I want another child._

“I love you,” Jon swore as he gathered his breath, now lying on his back, beside her in their bed. Instead of staring at the ceiling above, basking in the smell of their sex, Daenerys turned to Jon. Part of her was afraid this was all just a cruel dream. She had to see him and feel him next to her.

“And I love you, my King,” she replied, draping an arm across his chest while she entangled her leg with his. She wasn’t going to let him go. Not this night or many nights to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my worst chapter for this fic. I know some may have wanted the scene in their bedchambers to last longer, but I am not a very strong writer with that stuff & I want this story to move along. Next chapter will likely be Daenerys POV, learning about the White Walkers and an important strategy meeting in the Chamber of the Painted Table. (It wont go well for one character)


	7. Daenerys IV

**Daenerys Targaryen**

The feeling was foreign, waking up with a lover in her bed as the morning light from the windows of her chambers warmed her skin. Daenerys thought she remembered what it felt like to have Jon with her, but she knew she was wrong the second her eyes fluttered upon as his fingers carefully traced her hip. Making sure this was not some cruel dream again, she pulled herself closer against his side with her arm and leg draped across his perfect form.

Instead of waking up to the smell of her own fragrances and oils, she woke up to the somehow forgotten smell of the North. A smile crept on her lips before she tilted her head up to catch Jon staring down at her. His eyes were still true, telling no lies. He still loved her as much as she loved him. _I don’t want to leave this bed. Why can’t we stay here, like this, forever?_

“I’m sorry,” Jon said in his husky tone. Seeing her furrowed brow of confusion, he continued, “For waking you.”

“Don’t be,” Daenerys replied, leaving a kiss on the scar left upon his heart. She swore to herself she would kiss his scars every morning until the day they grew old and died. “I liked it,” she said truthfully.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. Gods, there is nothing more beautiful then waking up and seeing you asleep beside me,” Jon said, running his hand through her unbraided hair, something she remembered he liked to do in Pentos.

“Are you saying I am not beautiful when I am awake?” she demanded with a raised eyebrow and a subtle hint of sarcasm.

“Dany, that’s not what I meant,” Jon rushed to explain himself, drawing a laugh from her lips.

“I understood what you meant,” Daenerys said, assuaging his foolish fears with a gentle hand on his chest and a soft, slow kiss on his lips. “Sometimes I grow tired of you swearing how beautiful I am.”

“I will do as my Queen commands, but that is an order I cannot follow. You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I will remind you of that fact…every…single…day,” Jon promised with kisses down her neck between his last words. Before she could say anything, he surprised her with his fingers moving past her rosebud, finding her soft petals. His touch was enough to make her wet again and return the soft moans pouring out of her mouth.

Daenerys did not believe in any gods. She believed in herself, Daenerys Stormborn, and her King, Jon Targaryen. _I’m not sure if I can ever think of him as Jaehaerys._ But after their long night, sharing each other, and the passionate sex they had this morning, Daenerys thanked them for giving her a proper lover.

Jon had filled her with his seed three times in the night and she came for him thrice as much. To her body’s relief, her King was still ready for more and filled her to the hilt, making her silver mane a further mess and covering both their bodies in a sheen of sweat. They would need fresh silks for their bed and Daenerys mischievously hoped that would become commonplace in their bedchambers. She and Jon had spent far too many years apart not to make up for lost time.

“Daenerys, wait,” she felt the pull of his hand on her wrist, keeping her from leaving their bed to ask one of her handmaidens for a warm bath. His sure grip, the look in his eyes, and the fact he did not call her Dany told her this was something serious. Jon had her full attention as she settled back onto their bed across from him. “I have something important to tell you. I wish it were not true, but it is. You may think me mad, but I swear it, it is true.”

“What? What is true?” she asked, feeling herself overly concerned for what he was about to tell her. Daenerys knew it was not a matter that would affect what they shared. Jon loved her and she felt surer of that than anything else in the world, besides their love for their children. If it was a matter of the heart, he would have told her before they made love. _He told me about the wildling girl. What could this be about?_

“I didn’t just let the Free Folk through the Wall because they would freeze come winter or because I thought they deserved mercy. I did it to save them and us, to protect the realms of men. The White Walkers and the Army of the Dead are real. I’ve seen them. All the tales told to little children to make them behave, they are real,” Jon said, serious in his tone. She sensed a pain in his voice when he spoke of White Walkers and an army of dead men. _I have not heard of this. It must be saved for northern children. Lyanna has never told such tales._

“Early on in my time in the Night’s Watch, we retrieved a body of a fallen brother. We brought the body back to Castle Black and it attacked Lord Commander Mormont in the night. Ghost and I stopped it. We call them wights. The White Walkers bring the dead back, to fight in his army. The Watch fought them at the Fist of the First Men and lost. I fought them at Hardhomme and lost. The Night King and his army will breach the Wall. I am not sure when, but it will not be long,” Jon continued, finding her hands to hold as he told her of this unknown enemy.

“An army of dead men? White Walkers?” she said aloud, wondering how such things could be true.

“It’s true, Dany,” he said in a sure, but concerned voice.

“I believe you. I will always believe you. It’s just hard to…,” Daenerys trailed off with a thousand thoughts twisting through her mind. In one morning, Jon had managed to make her question everything she was fighting for. What he said was true and now the Iron Throne was not so important. Reclaiming what belonged to House Targaryen was not as important as it was a day ago. _We must fight for our children’s future. For their survival._

“How do we defeat them?” she finally asked, gathering it must not be a simple task, otherwise Jon would have led the northern lords to fight them already.

“With fire, dragonglass, and Valyrian steel,” Jon answered. “The wight that attacked Commander Mormont, I killed him with fire. My friend, Samwell Tarly, was the first to kill a White Walker. He did it with a dragonglass dagger. And the White Walker…the one…I killed at Hardhomme, I killed with Longclaw. Their spears destroy normal steel.”

“Our dragons…,” she said. _Fire._

“And you have dragonglass here on Dragonstone. Stannis Baratheon told my friend Sam and he sent me a raven from the Citadel, there is mountains of it,” Jon told her.

“We have dragonglass. We rule Dragonstone. You are my King and the lord of our family’s ancestral home,” Daenerys reminded him, placing her hand over his. He still looked unsure of her words. _He is still my honorable and humble Jon. He would let me take the Crown for myself if he had his way._

“It still seems strange. I always wanted to be a Stark. Winterfell was always my home,” Jon admitted, looking down with self-doubt in his voice.

“And part of you still is a Stark, through your mother,” she tried to comfort him. _But you are still a true Targaryen, a dragonlord. Rhaegal will be yours, I know it._

“Aye,” Jon replied, but she wasn’t sure she filled him with confidence.

“This threat, if the Night King and his army are this dangerous, should we sail north with our armies immediately?” she found herself asking him. She trusted him more than any to tell her the truth about matters of war and combat. Daenerys had not seen defeat, but she had also never waged war against seasoned armies. The Lannisters and the Army of the Dead were something else entirely, compared to the slave soldiers and mercenaries she defeated in the Bay of Dragons.

“We should deal with Cersei first,” Jon said after a long pause, considering his options. “I do not want to lose any men before we fight the dead, but the Seven Kingdoms must be united in this war. The North and the Vale cannot fight it alone, even with your armies. I fought Ramsay Bolton to bring the northern Houses together. We must do the same for the other kingdoms. A divided realm will not defeat the Night King and Cersei Lannister is not trustworthy. She will not negotiate a peace.”

“Then we shall begin our plans for retaking the Iron Throne today,” Daenerys said, relieved to know they would not need to alter their plans. Tyrion and Varys had spent many moons carefully crafting the planned invasion of Westeros. It would begin with a surprise attack on Casterly Rock and then the surrounding of King’s Landing. Part of her was glad she decided to postpone the Unsullied’s attack on Casterly Rock so Jon could change what he thought was best. Another part of her worried this would delay their ability to destroy the Lannisters in time to bring their armies north and stop the Night King.

“We should begin mining the dragonglass at once,” Jon said and Daenerys agreed, nodding her head. “And I will need some of your men.”

“Our men,” she reminded him again. “You are our King. Now come, your Queen demands your company,” Daenerys added, reaching her hand out for Jon to join her for a bath.

With Ghost on her left and Jon to her right with their Kingsguard in tow, Daenerys felt more confident than she had in a long time. Doubt festered inside her after many falters and struggles during her rule of Meereen. She reclaimed some of the lost confidence she held conquering the cities of Astapor and Yunkai when she united the Dothraki as one khalasar in Vaes Dothrak. But it was not the same as before. The game of thrones frightened her. She feared what it could do to her, whether she won or lost. Loss meant death and the worst for her children, but victory could come with its own perils, she knew. But with Jon, the fear and doubt were burnt away.

Daenerys was happy and sad to finally know the truth of Jon’s journey since they were parted. Held in his arms in their scolding hot bath, she listened to him tell his tale, from Winterfell to the Wall to the lands beyond and back to Winterfell again. She expected suffering, but it was worse than she imagined when it was his words. His voice made it all real.

Jon’s tale was similar to her own, filled with regrets, sorrow, death, and betrayal. She wondered if she could have gone through what he had. _He was alone, all alone at the Wall. All he had was Ghost. And Uncle Aemon. And Samwell Tarly and Edd I suppose. I had Aemon and Alysanne. I had Lyanna. I had the Kingsguard and Ser Jorah. I had Irri and Jhiqui and Doreah. Could I have done it alone?_

When they dressed for the day, Daenerys was glad Jon took the time to inform her of the political situation in the North and the Vale. Varys had his little birds, and Tyrion, his supposedly clever mind. Lyanna taught her the history of the North and its Houses, but Jon told her what mattered in the present.

It wasn’t what he said, but what he didn’t say. Something inside Daenerys told her she needed to be cautious with Sansa Stark and her allies from the Vale. Jon defended her and swore she was family, that she could be trusted. _I would never withhold information from family marching into battle. Jon could have died._

The more Jon talked of the North and its lords, the more she suspected there were few to trust north of the Neck. The only northerners she suspected she could trust were Jon, the Mormont girl, a handful of lesser houses, the Free Folk, and Ghost. _I can always trust Ghost._

When they reached the final corridor that led to the Chamber of the Painted Table, Daenerys saw Ashara and Allyria waiting for them. Ashara wore a silk dress that matched her dark, purple eyes. She still looked like one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, despite her age. Allyria was the same, inheriting all her mother’s looks. As she approached the Dornishwomen, she questioned whether she should have invited them to the breakfast in her solar. The Daynes had practically become her family.

Daenerys quickly decided she made the right choice. Jon still needed to have as much time with Aemon and Alysanne as he could get. Her children hardly picked at their food until she reminded them. The twins were too occupied with Jon, telling him stories from Essos and what they had learned of the North from Lyanna. And when they were not telling him about themselves, they were demanding tales from his time at the Wall, fighting wildlings and monsters. Daenerys had herself and Lyanna to blame for that. Many nights had been spent telling her children that Jon was protecting the realms of men from great evils beyond the Wall. _I wish it had not come to be true._

“Your Graces,” Lady Ashara Dayne said, curtsying with Allyria.

“Are they all here?” Daenerys asked, earning a nod from Ashara. She turned to Jon, “Jon, this is Lady Ashara Dayne and your cousin, Lady Allyria Dayne.” When Allyria had travelled to Starfall, she assumed the Dayne name. Daenerys legitimized Allyria in Meereen, offering Stark or Dayne, and Allyria chose Dayne.

Before Jon could say anything, Allyria embraced Jon, bringing a smile to his face with her arms around him. Allyria had been waiting years to see her kin from her father’s House. Lyanna was all she had from her Stark relatives. Now she had Jon and a half-sister in Sansa Stark.

“I’m sorry, please forgive me your Grace,” Allyria dipped her head in apology after leaving their embrace.

“There is nothing to forgive, you are my cousin. You may call me by my name,” Jon said in a soft, caring tone. _When it is just family._ “Daenerys and my mother have told me about you both. Thank you for looking after my children and protecting them.”

“Like you said, we are family,” Allyria replied, looking happier than usual. Allyria was a skilled fighter and learned many things from Ser Arthur Dayne. While Daenerys was away from Meereen, in the Dothraki Sea, Allyria served as her children’s guard day and night. “There are so many questions I have to ask…”

“After the meeting, my sweet daughter,” Lady Ashara reminded them of the waiting lords and ladies.

With Jon and their loyal direwolf at her sides, Daenerys resumed her march to the Chamber of the Painted Table. The two Unsullied standing guard parted the way, opening the door for them to enter. Inside, she found a lit hearth and a nearly full table. Carved figures littered the table carved in the shape of Westeros.

To her right, along the western side of the table where the Sunset Sea sat, Daenerys saw Lady Olenna Tyrell slowly standing as she entered. With the Queen of Thorns stood Lord Willas Tyrell, a comely enough lord of similar age. He seemed a pleasant lord, but Daenerys heard it was his younger brother, Garlan, who was the true warrior. Garlan was not present, remaining at Highgarden to hold his family’s castle and gather the forces of the Reach.

Further down, she saw the beautiful Princess Arianne Martell with her tanned olive skin and dark, wavy hair. _Her breasts are certainly hard to miss._ Beside her was Ser Edric Dayne, Arianne’s betrothed and future Lord of Starfall. And finally, she saw Yara and Theon Greyjoy. Reminded of Theon’s treachery, Daenerys turned to Jon, trying to read his emotions. He did well to hide his anger, but Daenerys could see the flames in his grey eyes. _If I had not told him of the Greyjoys, he would kill him here and now, I think._

Daenerys walked to the left of the table, where the Narrow Sea should be. The first of her commanders she saw were her bloodriders. Rakharo, Kovarro, and Qhono each looked at her with respect and admiration. _I pray they come to look at Jon the same way._ She nodded to Missandei and Grey Worm as she passed her loyal advisors.

The last of her council were Tyrion and Varys, standing near the end of the table, along the Stormlands and Dorne. Three seats were saved for them. One for Lyanna and two for the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms at the end of the table.

Each of the lords and ladies took their seats as Daenerys took hers, but they did not wait for Jon to her displeasure. They still did not know who he was or what he meant to her, but it still angered Daenerys. Lyanna, Tyrion, and the rest of her advisors from Essos did wait for Jon. The Kingsguard quickly took their places behind herself and Jon, with Ghost sitting to her left, carefully eyeing the Greyjoys. Ashara and Allyria sat at the far end of the table with Ser Davos Seaworth, not expecting to involve themselves much in the war plans.

“Why does the King in the North sit beside her Grace?” Princess Arianne Martell demanded, eyeing Jon as if she almost wished to seduce him. Daenerys liked the Dornish princess and was glad she sent Varys to help her dispose of the Sand Snakes who had murdered Prince Doran and his sons, but that could change. _Do not test me._

“He has not bent the knee?” Yara Greyjoy said, looking angered by the fact Jon was still referred to as a King.

“I should like to know how Ned Stark’s bastard has come to call himself King in the North. Lady Sansa is alive and well in Winterfell, is she not?” Olenna Tyrell asked. Daenerys had heard enough.

“He is not a bastard,” Daenerys replied in a cool tone, laced with venom. “He is your King. He is the trueborn son of my brother, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, and Lady Lyanna Stark,” she finished, looking to Jon and Lyanna. Her love still looked uneasy, like he had not earned his crown. Lyanna looked proud of him, just as much as Daenerys felt.

“Is this some jest?” Lord Willas Tyrell asked.

“No jest. He is King Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name, and the father of my children,” Daenerys said, leaving no doubt to their unity or the line of succession. Theon appeared to be the first to accept it. _He now sees Jon in Aemon._ After some muttering amongst the lords and ladies, Daenerys continued, “Shall we begin?”

“If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King’s Landing now, hard, with everything we have. The city will fall within a day,” Yara Greyjoy started, sounding very eager to begin the bloodshed. Daenerys admired her enthusiasm and unshaken loyalty despite the news of Jon’s true identity. Yara bent the knee to her, not Jon, who Yara had thought a Snow until today.

“We turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms,” Tyrion argued, leaning into the table to get his point across.

“It’s called war. If you do not have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding,” Arianne Martell sounded unimpressed by Tyrion’s reasoning.

“We know how you wage war. We do not poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent,” Tyrion replied.

“She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannisters. My cousins, Aegon and Rhaenys were butchered at your father’s command. My aunt, raped and murdered at your father’s command,” Arianne said with utter contempt and hatred for Tyrion’s House. “And you seem to have me confused with my dead cousins, the ones I helped kill so your Queen….and King may have Dorne’s spears.”

“That is enough, Lord Tyrion is Hand to the Queen and you will treat him with respect,” Daenerys cut in, having little patience for petty arguments. Her own words brought about another problem. _Does Jon still want Tyrion as a Hand? Or does he want another? Will we have two? Ser Davos?_ “We are not here to be the King and Queen of the ashes.”

“That is very nice to hear. Of course, I cannot remember a Queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her. The nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they’re all just children really. They won’t obey you unless they fear you,” Olenna Tyrell spoke up. _She wants to see the city burn to the ground after what Cersei did._

“I am grateful for your counsel, Lady Olenna. I am grateful to all of you, but you have chosen to follow us,” Daenerys said, turning to Jon, reminding them of their King. “I will not attack King’s Landing. We will not attack King’s Landing.”

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?” Olenna asked. Daenerys noticed Lord Willas growing tired of his grandmother speaking for him. Willas showed her some deference and respect, but Varys had told her he was not weak like his father.

Daenerys turned to Tyrion, ready for him to inform the lords and ladies of his plans. More importantly, she wanted Jon to hear his plans and see if they were wise. _I know how to fly dragons and burn fleets and armies. I know nothing of siege and armies fighting armies._

“We will lay siege to the capitol, surrounding it on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people. We won’t use Dothraki or Unsullied. Cersei will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our armies should be Westerosi,” Tyrion laid out the beginnings of their plan. Daenerys looked to Jon and saw what looked to be skepticism creeping onto his face. _I should have just consulted him beforehand._

“And I suppose we will supply the armies,” Arianne Martell followed.

“You are. Lady Greyjoy will escort you to Sunspear and her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King’s Landing,” Tyrion answered, standing to move the pieces on the table representing the Dornish and Ironborn forces. “The Dornish will lay siege to the capitol, alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersei.”

“So, your plan is to use our armies. What will yours be doing? Waiting on Dragonstone while our men die?” Willas Tyrell asked.

“The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades, House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros and the seat of that power is Casterly Rock,” Tyrion answered, walking around them toward the Westerlands with the figurine for the Unsullied in hand. “Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it.”

“Taking Casterly Rock will not be easy,” Jon finally broke his silence, staring down Tyrion, demanding an explanation.

“No one has ever taken the Rock. The Lannister army is still the army my father built, well trained and well provisioned. Ten thousand men at least. They will see us coming. They will be ready. The gates of Casterly Rock are impregnable. The fight up the walls will be hard. Many men will die, just as my father said they would. Interesting thing about my father, he built up our House from near ruin. He built the army. He built Casterly Rock as we know it, but he didn’t build the sewers. It was low and beneath him, so he gave the job to the lowest person he could find, me. And he was right, I was low, the company I kept low. Women mostly. They weren’t welcome at the Rock. Father didn’t approve of that sort of behavior. I couldn’t walk them through the gates, and I couldn’t have them in my chambers, so in the process of building the sewers, I threw in something for myself. It was a passage in an out of the way cove by the sea beneath one of the main guard towers. No better place for low pursuits than beneath the ground. Casterly Rock is an impregnable fortress, but as a good friend of mine once said, give me ten good men and I’ll impregnate the bitch. They will face the bulk of the Lannisters forces. They will be outnumbered, they will have less armor and fewer weapons. My sister’s armies fight for her out of fear. The Unsullied will be fighting for freedom and the person who gave it to them. That is why they will triumph.” _He is better at speeches than battle strategy, I can see it on Jon’s face._

The others at the table either nodded their heads or showed no signs of disapproval. Jon was the only one Daenerys saw who looked at the table, imagining Tyrion’s plans unfolding, with pure contempt.

“You disagree,” Daenerys stated, looking to her King. She could tell he was holding his tongue, still deferring to her despite how many times she had told him he was King. Daenerys snuck her hand on his leg, encouraging him to decide their proper course of action.

“How many ships are in your uncle’s fleet?” Jon asked Yara Greyjoy, surprising Daenerys. She wasn’t sure where he was going with his question. She expected a criticism of Tyrion’s plans for Casterly Rock.

“Six hundred at least, likely more,” Yara answered.

“Six hundred or a thousand, it does not matter. Euron wanted to marry a queen. He will ally with Cersei. He will either strike at your fleet or the Redwyne fleet. We have the greater numbers and they will try to bring those numbers down,” Jon added, standing from his seat.

“What should we do?” Daenerys asked, looking to Jon for an answer.

“The Greyjoy and Redwyne fleets should sail together,” Jon said pointing to the Gullet. “But not alone.”

“We will wait for Euron with our dragons,” Daenerys caught on to Jon’s line of thinking.

“Princess Arianne, send a raven to your armies. Have them march north to Highgarden,” Jon ordered, finally sounding like the king Daenerys knew he was.

“I thought the Greyjoy fleet was ferrying my men to King’s Landing,” Arianne said.

“And what will the Greyjoy and Redwyne fleets be doing?” Tyrion asked, not sounding pleased about the dismantling of his carefully laid plans.

“Blockading the Blackwater while the rest of our ships bring the Dothraki ashore, here,” Jon pointed to Sharp Point. “Casterly Rock is not as important as you think. At Winterfell, I heard Lord Baelish mention the Rock’s mines are empty and the crown is in debt to the Iron Bank. I will lead the Dothraki and defend Highgarden.”

“Highgarden?” Tyrion asked with a confused look. _His skill at cyvasse means little in warfare._

“The Tyrells are the richest House in the Seven Kingdoms, are you not?” Jon asked Lord Willas and Lady Olenna, who simply confirmed his statement with slight nods of respect. “Your brother is a seasoned battle commander. He will not sit by while we take more and more land. He will move against an ally he sees vulnerable and with large amounts of gold,” Jon replied, pointing to Highgarden. “If the Dothraki are as quick as my Queen says they are, we may be lucky enough to reach Highgarden before Jaime Lannister. If not, Princess Arianne’s men and the men Lord Willas has already gathered will be waiting for them.”

Daenerys stole a brief glance at the Kingsguard, seeing agreement on all their faces. They had cautioned her on Tyrion’s plan, but she trusted he knew his family and could use it against them. She was wrong and wanted to curse herself. Her belief in Jon and waiting for his counsel helped Daenerys keep the belief in herself.

“And after we have killed my uncle and defeated the Lannister army?” Yara asked.

“As you said, we take King’s Landing in a day,” Jon surprised her, bringing smiles to Yara and Arianne’s faces.

“Jon…Your Grace,” Tyrion stumbled over his words, correcting himself. Daenerys could feel herself beginning to fume. Tyrion had failed her in Meereen and he was starting to question Jon. _Tread carefully Lord Tyrion._ “We should stick to the plan. It is a good plan.”

“Your plan will not win the Iron Throne. It would bleed our armies and lose us allies,” Jon argued vigorously before looking to Daenerys for permission to continue. He didn’t need to, but Daenerys silently bid him to continue. “Lady Yara, Princess Arianne, Lord Edric, Lord Willas, I will speak with you later regarding these plans.”

“Leave us,” Daenerys ordered everyone out of the room. Everyone bowed their heads and began to leave, all except Tyrion. Her Hand saw her disapproval and stayed as she silently commanded him to remain. Soon enough, it was just herself, Jon, Lyanna, the Kingsguard, Ghost, and Tyrion.

“You cannot mean to burn the city,” Tyrion started.

“I never said I was going to burn King’s Landing,” Jon said. She could tell he was losing patience with her Hand.

“My brother would not leave Casterly Rock undefended,” Tyrion continued the defense of his plan.

“What does your brother love more, Casterly Rock or his Queen?” Jon inquired. _If Jaime Lannister truly loves his sister, he would do anything to protect her and see her win. Jon would not choose any castle or city over me and the twins._

Finally, Tyrion kept silent. No clever words or quips came flowing out of his mouth. Daenerys found herself beginning to question herself. _Did I know this would happen? Did I intend for Jon to impress our allies? Did I want revenge against Tyrion for Meereen? I made him my Hand…_

“And I will not let myself or Daenerys make the same mistake as Stannis Baratheon. He should have attacked your father in the Riverlands, not King’s Landing. Cersei is more important than Casterly Rock. The sooner we defeat her, the sooner…,” Jon held his tongue, having only told her about the Night King and his army.

“The sooner what?” Lyanna asked. Jon looked to Lyanna, wishing to tell her. Before he did, he looked to Daenerys, asking if now was the right time to tell them.

“Ser Oswell, send for Missandei and Grey Worm and Lord Varys,” Daenerys ordered the Kingsguard.

“Your bloodriders as well?” Oswell asked.

“Yes,” Daenerys said.

“Bring Ser Davos as well,” Jon ordered.

“Yes, your Graces,” Ser Oswell Whent accepted his orders and marched out of the chamber.

Daenerys looked to Jon, readying themselves for the hard truth their advisors must face as she had. She only prayed they did not think her mad. Jon expected her to think he was mad. She could never think that of Jon, but she loved him and trusted him more than anyone in the world. Her advisors were close to her, but they did not share what she and Jon shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is still heavily based on show canon, but as you can see, a few characters from the books have made their appearance. Hope everyone likes it and doesn't feel it is too rushed. And I promise, Jon & Dany will not be stupid and reliant on others like they were in GoT. And a few certain characters will actually suffer the consequences for their actions. Not sure if the next chapter will be posted next week. I plan to focus on Targaryen Supremacy right now.
> 
> Please leave any questions, comments, criticisms, etc. below.


	8. Jon IV

**Jon Snow**

“My uncle said he was a great fighter, a great battle commander,” Allyria said, standing beside him at the edge of Aegon’s Garden. His cousin reminded him of Arya or how he thought Arya might be one day. She was as skilled as Daenerys said, learning how to wield a blade as well as any of the Kingsguard. Jon still felt worn and beaten from the two hours in the training yard spent with Allyria and Ser Arthur Dayne.

“Aye,” Jon confirmed, remembering all of the stories and accomplishments his uncle had earned in Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion. Ned Stark’s victories were once a point of pride. Jon was the bastard son of a great lord who overthrew the Mad King and avenged the wrongs done to House Stark. Now, all he felt was anger and confusion. _He protected me, but he helped nearly bring an end to my family, my real family._

“I wish I had known him. If I had known he meant to sail to Pentos all those years ago, I would have stayed…My mother said he would have loved me, that he was an honorable man,” Allyria let her thoughts spill out. He could not blame her. She had never known her father, like himself. She had asked him all of the questions of Ned Stark he had asked his own mother of Rhaegar the night before. _I used to believe he was honorable, but now…he let me join the Night’s Watch when he knew the truth. He let me leave Dany and never told me about my mother._

“He would have loved you,” Jon confirmed, thinking it to be true. _He took me in as his bastard. Surely, he would have accepted Allyria._

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…I know he kept the truth from you. I just wanted…,” Allyria stumbled over her own words, looking nervous and apologetic, as if he could ever take offence from her. She was family he never knew. Jon swore he would love her and protect her as if she were a lost sister, as if she were Arya or Rhaenys.

“There is nothing to be sorry for. You are my cousin and Ned Stark was my father. He may have been my uncle in truth, but he raised me as his own,” Jon replied, unsure if he truly believed his own words. Perhaps it was a lie, but it was a lie he was willing to tell for Allyria’s sake. “Do not feel afraid to ask me about him.”

Jon returned his gaze toward Aemon chasing after Ghost through the various trees and bushes within the garden. His son brought a smile to his face when he brushed past Alysanne and Daenerys, sitting in the grass. Daenerys was braiding their daughter’s hair and to her frustration, Aemon’s disturbance undid some of her work.

“I wish Arya were alive. She would have liked you,” Jon told Allyria again. She had asked about Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. It saddened him to recount his childhood at Winterfell and the withering memories of his siblings who had passed. All of them were gone, except Sansa, and Jon was not sure she would embrace Allyria as family. Sansa did not like him when they were children, but accepted him now. _Will she see Allyria as a sister? Will she still consider me her brother after she learns the truth?_

“She is still out there,” Allyria stated with a steely confidence. Jon said nothing, wondering where Allyria found her belief. _I pray she is right, but Arya is dead. She would have returned to Winterfell by now. The entire realm has heard of the Battle of the Bastards by now._ “And Bran.” 

Jon did not have the heart to tell her or himself. Bran had travelled beyond the Wall. _He will find nothing but death there. He is gone, with Uncle Benjen._

“Where are you going?” he turned around when he realized Allyria was no longer standing at his side. She was leaving him, likely to speak with the Lady Ashara Dayne, or so he thought. Wherever he saw Allyria, her mother was always with her.

“I will speak with you later,” Allyria replied as she trotted past his mother speaking with Ser Arthur Dayne. He had almost forgotten his shadow. Jon still could not get used to the Kingsguard’s presence everywhere he went. Ghost was suited to that role, but it felt odd having a knight follow him wherever he went.

Jon supposed it could be worse. He liked Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword of the Morning was a legendary knight and Jon grew up hearing stories of the knight’s fabled skill with a sword. Jon smirked, still filled with awe from seeing the Kingsguard wield a sword with his own eyes. When Ser Arthur asked Jon to spar with him, Jon felt a great deal of gratitude to the knight. _He is the best I have ever faced._

“What is that smirk for?” his mother asked as she left Ser Arthur, stepping gracefully across the green grass of the garden. His mother still wore her riding breeches from their morning ride outside the castle walls. _At least he did not lie about that. Arya is much like her._

Alysanne demanded a morning ride and Jon soon learned he would never refuse his daughter. His daughter was willful and prone to getting what she wanted, like Daenerys and his mother.

“Nothing,” he responded, shaking his head as she stood beside him. They both stood there, carefully watching in silence as Aemon weaved his way through a grove of elms and Alysanne read from a book covering the histories of House Targaryen while Daenerys finished her braid.

“Arthur says you are as good with a sword as they say,” his mother broke the silence with unnecessary flattery. “He tells me you defeated him and Ser Oswell.”

“They are good, honest men, but they lied to you,” Jon declared, turning to look at his mother. She furrowed her brow in confusion, much how Daenerys would. “They let me win. I told them not to.” 

Jon was unsure of what he said to make his mother laugh so hard. He never thought himself one for clever jokes, but his words seemed to amuse his mother. 

“What did I say?” Jon asked. 

“You remind me of him, your father, Rhaegar. He never spoke highly of himself, even when he should have. I have spoken with your friend, Ser Davos. I learned a great many things, things you failed to tell myself or Daenerys. Most lords and kings would tell their tales of triumph to all who could hear, or at least ensure the tales spread from the mouths of others. And yet, you told us little of the Battle of the Bastards, or your time beyond the Wall. You are a greater warrior and king than you let on,” his mother said with a funny look. He returned his eyes to both his children running through the garden before she continued.

“Your father was great with a sword, like you. And he never boasted of his accomplishments and they were many…unlike some lords. And he was quiet like you. Daenerys says you are good at brooding. Rhaegar brooded more than any man I have ever known, although I do not think he would have brooded, seeing you named King in the North,” his mother finished. _Dany…_

“King in the North,” he echoed, thinking for the thousandth time what the northern lords would think of his true name. _They crowned Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s bastard, not Jaehaerys Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen._ All of the North loved his mother, but he questioned whether that love would endure after they learned the rebellion fought for Lady Lyanna Stark was built on a lie. _It was not her lie, but would they accept her secret marriage to a prince of House Targaryen?_

“The northern lords named you King in the North because they believe in you. You avenged Robb and all those who died at the Red Wedding. You freed the North from the Boltons. I thought the Lady Melisandre mad when she told Daenerys you united the northern Houses and the wildings, but here you stand, my son, King in the North, leading them all against the darkness. You do not have the Stark name, but you have my blood and you are their rightful king. More importantly, you are their chosen king. Your name does not change that,” his mother tried to comfort him.

“I’m not so sure,” Jon admitted, shaking his head. He could still remember Lord Glover’s refusal to join him before retaking Winterfell. Lord Manderly and many others also refused the call to fight for House Stark. Jon found it hard to believe they would still bend the knee to a Targaryen king. 

“I am,” his mother affirmed her belief in him. _I pray she knows them better than I do._

“Father! Father! Look!” Alysanne captured his attention, giggling as she climbed onto Ghost, riding him through the garden.

“Alysanne! Get down! Ghost is not a horse,” Daenerys fumed, standing from her place in the grass under a lemon tree to collect their daughter.

“I am sorry,” his mother offered an apology.

“For what?” Jon asked.

“This, the life you should have had. This is what I dreamed of, raising you on Dragonstone with Daenerys, and Aegon and Rhaenys. I prayed you would have more sisters and brothers. I thought you would have a happy life, as a prince of House Targaryen. Your father and I ruined that,” his mother answered with a deep sadness.

“You tried to tell them,” Jon offered, fighting his own lingering anger. He liked to think he would have done many things differently than Rhaegar, but Jon was not his father and wasn’t there. _I have made plenty mistakes and paid for them. I would be dead, like my father, if not for the magic of a red priestess._

“It wasn’t enough and it wasn’t right. Your father died for our mistakes. Worse, your brother and sister were butchered with Elia for our mistakes. And thousands died for it. I will never forgive myself,” his mother added as tears began to slip from her eyes. Whatever anger and resentment he held for his mother, it always passed when he saw her own pain and suffering. Others would think her tears false and a mummer’s act, but he knew her emotions were true. She was his mother and somehow, he knew.

“You didn’t kill them. Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon killed them,” he tried to comfort his mother, while cursing himself for not having the proper words to end her sorrow.

“The worst part is, I do not regret it. Despite all the terrible things that have happened to our family, marrying your father gave me you,” his mother confessed. Jon didn’t know what to say. This was the first time he thought he truly felt a mother’s love. When he first learned the truth of his identity and spent time with his mother in the days after, Jon still felt the shock from her revelations. Now, the shock had passed and it was her love alone he felt. 

“I can fly with you. I am big enough, I promise,” Aemon swore, tugging on Jon’s jerkin as they marched along the edge of the cliffs toward the dragons. Jon could see Viserion staring off at the horizon while Drogon and Rhaegal kept their eyes on the approaching party.

“You will when you are old enough,” Jon replied, wondering how his children were so fearless. He feared the dragons. He knew nothing of dragons and flying, except for tales from Old Nan and what he had come to learn from Daenerys. “When your mother says you are old enough. Now stay here and protect your sister,” he added before Aemon could say more.

Jon smiled when he saw his son firm his grip on the small wooden sword at his hip. His son always asked to follow him everywhere and Jon did not think he would turn Aemon away often, but flying on Rhaegal was no place for the little prince. Knowing Aemon would accept an order that would make him feel like a warrior, Jon knew the right words to say.

“I don’t need protection,” Alysanne huffed, crossing her arms with a determined look about her. Jon knelt before his daughter and kissed her on the brow, trying to show his apologies.

“No, you don’t my little dragon. Do you know how to fly them?” Jon asked Alysanne, knowing she had some advice to offer. His daughter was obsessed with the dragons and swore she would fly one of her own like Dany one day. _I hope I live to see that day._

“Don’t be afraid,” Alysanne answered, looking at him like he was a fool. Jon thought it easy for Alysanne to say. She grew up around the three dragons when they were little, like her. Jon only knew the great beasts before him that could fill a castle yard. 

“Do I look afraid?” Jon asked Alysanne, pulling her cloak around her shoulders as the cool winds strengthened. 

“You could never be afraid, Father,” Alysanne replied with a confused look on her face. Jon pulled his daughter in, hugging her while he thought of her answer. It was then he realized how much his children truly idolized the image Daenerys had painted of him. They thought him a great warrior and king, unafraid of wildlings, Boltons, and the like. They did not think him the Bastard of Winterfell. 

Jon wanted to tell them the truth, that he had been afraid many times. Ned Stark’s words were a faint whisper in his ear, reminding him that men could only be brave when they were afraid. When he decided to tell his daughter the lesson his uncle had told him, he thought better of it. _I will tell her and Aemon when they are older._

“Alysanne, you have to let your father go. We cannot wait until nightfall,” Daenerys said, failing to notice it was Jon who did not wish to let go.

“I…,” Alysanne held her tongue after Jon relinquished her from his embrace. 

“We will not be too long, I think,” Daenerys told their children and his mother, who had come to stand behind the prince and princess. “Are you ready?”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Jon asked as he walked with his Queen toward the waiting dragons.

“Then I shall find myself another King,” Daenerys jested, leaning into his side with her hands clutching his arm. Daenerys thought it was funny, but Jon was serious when he asked. _I am only half-Targaryen._

Jon thought Daenerys would be there to ease him into this, but when he stood in front of Rhaegal’s large snout, Daenerys was no longer at his side. He looked over both shoulders, thinking he had mistakenly gotten ahead of himself, leaving her behind. To his relief and some horror, she was already climbing atop Drogon’s black scales.

 _Easy there._ Jon brushed his ungloved hand over Rhaegal’s green scales after the dragon let out a soft roar. This time, Rhaegal did not fly away. The dragon remained, almost as calm as Ghost. But Rhaegal was not Ghost. Rhaegal was not silent and did not possess the fearsome red eyes of his direwolf. Rhaegal’s eyes were molten gold and his teeth were larger than any he had ever seen.

Remembering his daughter’s advice and Daenerys’ wise counsel, Jon did not hesitate any longer. Slowly, he slid his hands along the dragon’s snout until he was past his neck and Rhaegal’s shoulder. What happened next surprised him. _They are intelligent._

Rhaegal dipped his shoulder toward the ground, inviting Jon to climb his green scales. Knowing he had to be brave and praying his Valyrian ancestry meant something, Jon stepped forward and climbed the dragon. Carefully, he reached for the spiked scales lining Rhaegal’s spine and pulled himself onto the dragon’s back. It felt far more different than sitting on a strong destrier. Jon could feel the warmth and power the dragon possessed. _This is madness._

“Follow me!” Daenerys yelled from atop Drogon. Before Jon could respond, Daenerys turned Drogon around and dove off the cliffside. _Seven hells._

Afraid to let himself think about it any longer, Jon pulled on Rhaegal’s spikes before he lost his nerves. The moment he signaled where he wanted to go, Rhaegal followed and turned to the sea at their backs. Hoping Rhaegal would not take a similar dive off the cliff, Jon yelled the word Daenerys had taught him, “Sovegon!”

Much to his frustration and fright, Rhaegal took them into a dive off the cliff before spreading his great wings and levelling off, some thirty feet above the white waves breaking against the jagged rocks below. Rhaegal carried him out over the sea, steadily climbing until they joined Daenerys and Drogon.

Trusting Daenerys and Rhaegal, Jon pulled on the dragonscales before him, guiding his dragon to follow Daenerys. It was an incredible feeling he would never forget. Nothing had made him feel stronger or more powerful than the dragon beneath him. The dragon cut across the sky quicker than any bird. Jon had thought they had flown more than five miles from shore, but it only took minutes to return to Dragonstone, circling the castle built by his ancestors.

They flew around the castle and the lands nearby, taking several low passes over his children, watched and protected by his mother and the three Kingsguard. Jon laughed when he saw Aemon and Alysanne jumping off the ground, waving their arms as if he and Daenerys had achieved some great victory this day. He wished he could hear their voices and know the words they were yelling into the sky.

After the third pass, Daenerys led them to parts of Dragonstone he had never seen, further than they had ever ridden the horses. They circled the entire island and flew over the Port of Dragonstone on their return. He had never seen so many ships in his life, nor so many tents in a camp. There were tens of thousands of warriors. Jon had seen the Dothraki, but he had not yet seen all of them.

Perched atop Rhaegal, Jon’s position allowed him to glimpse the thousands of riders loading onto the galleys with painted black sails that would carry them ashore to Sharp Point. From there, they would ride for Highgarden to surprise Jaime Lannister and the lords of the Westerlands, or so Jon hoped. Part of him worried he was wrong and he was making a terrible mistake, but he did not let anyone know it. A commander has to be sure of himself and the decisions he makes. Jon was sure it was the same for a king.

When they were finished flying over the loud cries of the Dothraki, Daenerys led them back to their castle. With no more dives or sudden banks right or left, Jon had time to relax and think as Rhaegal carried him across the sky. He had time to think about his family and their future.

Jon was not sure he would survive the war against the Night King, but he was determined to see it end with a victory for the North and his Queen and his family. Winterfell was always his home. For a time, he thought Castle Black his home. Now, he was surer than ever, his home was Daenerys and Alysanne and Aemon and his Lady Mother. That home would be at the Red Keep in King’s Landing and the castle below him, Dragonstone.

Drogon and Rhaegal brought them back to where they had taken to the sky. The landing was softer than he expected. For such great and powerful beasts, they were quite graceful when they wanted to be. _I pray they are not so graceful when it comes to battle. We will need them in this war and the wars to come._

Just as he leapt off Rhaegal, finding his feet again, Daenerys was there to seal her lips with his. He dared not refuse her, savoring her taste as her hands clung to his black leather jerkin. Caught up in her passion, Jon failed to keep his own hands to himself, greedily kneading her ass, despite all of the layers covering her.

“You’ve completely ruined horses for me,” he jested, staring into her amethyst eyes after breaking apart from her bruised lips. Jon felt some pride swell within himself when he heard her beautiful laughter.

“A Targaryen King has no need of horses,” Daenerys whispered against his lips with a loving smirk playing across her lips. Jon wished there were no one around to see them. He would take her right where they stood if they were alone.

“Do you think Rhaegal is ready to take me into a battle?” Jon asked, knowing Euron Greyjoy’s fleet was preparing to leave King’s Landing as they spoke. Varys’ spies in the King’s Landing were keeping a watchful eye on Cersei Lannister and her Ironborn allies. Jon knew they could be raising their anchors and sailing toward the Gullet now.

"What do you think?’ Daenerys asked, no longer in a jesting tone, but that of a concerned wife and queen.

“He is ready,” Jon replied. He did not truly know why his answer was yes, but something inside him told him Rhaegal would take him anywhere he asked.

“Good, this will be the first step in reclaiming what is rightfully ours,” Daenerys said before standing on her toes to capture his lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I had to work on my main series/fic. Jon Snow is now a dragonrider and Euron Greyjoy wont be facing the Sand Snakes in this fic. Next chapter should be the battle of the Gullet. Chapter after that, I think everyone will be in for a welcome surprise. I know a lot of people liked the first chapters and I hope the recent ones are meeting expectations.
> 
> Please leave any comments, questions, criticisms, etc. below.


	9. Daenerys V

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Hours had passed since they had taken flight from Dragonstone and there were still no signs of the coming battle. Daenerys was becoming impatient, wishing she could abandon Driftmark and take to the sky with Drogon in search of the Ironborn fleet. It was Jon who held her back, holding her while they sat upon the top of a grassy hill along the southern cliffs of Driftmark.

Daenerys tried to keep her eyes on the five flickering flames that seemed to disappear into the black horizon, but the storms to the west demanded her attention. Lightning illuminated the night sky in the distance and the faint sound of thunder warned of the coming storm that threatened her fleet. Euron Greyjoy was coming and all they could do was sit there and wait.

The bulk of their fleet was unseen, beyond the horizon, sailing across the Gullet for Sharp Point. Daenerys guessed some had even landed already and a small host of Dothraki were likely ashore, preparing for the ride to Highgarden. While the Redwynes, Greyjoys, and a collection of lesser Houses with smaller fleets protected the mass of the Targaryen fleet, Jon instructed dozens of ships to trail behind, ready to light beacons from one ship to another when they were needed.

While her gaze remained on the storm lingering to the west, Daenerys felt more relief that anxiousness, ready to get on with what she had set out to do since the day she learned Aemon and Alysanne were growing inside her. Euron Greyjoy and his fleet of Ironborn would be the first to fall in her path to reclaim the Iron Throne. She always thought it would be the Lannisters she would strike against first, but she was happy to rid the realm of a treacherous lord. Yara Greyjoy had told her much of Euron and none of it good.

“I miss them already,” Jon admitted, pulling her closer against his chest as they waited and watched. Since he learned of their children, this was the longest Jon had gone without seeing their faces. Jon’s sadness reminded her of the time stolen from them and the life that was stolen from them before either of them were even born.

“I was worried Aemon would never let you go,” Daenerys replied, feeling sorry for her son. They tried to sneak away in the night, but Aemon and Alysanne were waiting. Ambushed outside their chambers, Alysanne pled for them to stay while Aemon swore they needed him.

“He is a brave prince,” Jon declared with a pride in his voice Daenerys wished to hear again and again. Daenerys had never heard Jon speak with any pride in himself or his accomplishments, but he was a proud father. Whenever he spoke of their children, Daenerys wondered if it was all a terrible dream and Jon had never left Pentos. It felt like he had been there since they were born, not away, guarding the realms of men.

“Like his father,” Daenerys could not resist the temptation to compliment her King. The small huff from Jon told her he disagreed. _Will he ever think greater of himself? Will he ever know his true worth? There is not a braver or more honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms._

“Do you ever wonder…,” Daenerys held her tongue, second guessing herself. _I shouldn’t bring this up now._

“What is it?” Jon asked with concern.

“Have you wondered…what our life would have been like if Rhaegar had won? If the Usurper had fallen and Rhaegar had taken my father’s crown. Everything would be different,” Daenerys said, trusting what Lyanna had told her. Rhaegar meant to put an end to Robert Baratheon’s rebellion and then to her father’s cruel reign. 

“Once…I thought of what it would be like to grow up, knowing my mother and my true father. And my brother and sister…I wish I knew them,” Jon answered. Daenerys could hear the sadness turn to a cold anger when he mentioned Aegon and Rhaenys.

“They did not deserve it,” Daenerys said, twisting in the grass so she could face Jon. She did not know why, but she needed to kiss him. With her hands cupping his face, she tried to heal the pains he carried with her lips carefully tasting his. “We will destroy all those who have wronged our family. Cersei, Jaime Lannister, the Mountain, Euron Greyjoy, House Frey, and any other lords or knights who stand with them.”

“Aye,” Jon replied with a pained smile. Daenerys knew he did not want to fight a war for the Iron Throne. He did not want crowns and thrones, but he knew it was necessary. They needed to defeat their enemies before the dead marched south. In her heart, Daenerys believed Jon would still fight to reclaim the Iron Throne, for her and their children.

“If my father had lived and become King, what would have happened to us? We might have never…,” Jon continued as he looked into her eyes with his hands holding onto her as if she would slip away, never to be in his arms again.

“We would, I know it. You would have been the Prince of Summerhall, and I, your Princess,” Daenerys said before capturing his lips again. “I would have loved you and you would have loved me. I know it, in my heart…but we cannot change the past.”

“We can change our future, for Aemon and Alysanne. We can give them the life we never had,” Jon said, warming Daenerys’ heart with images of her children running along the battlements of Dragonstone and swimming in a lake she had never seen near Summerhall. It wasn’t just Aemon and Alysanne in her fantasy. She saw more children, with silver and raven hair, grey and amethyst eyes, and her face or his.

“It’s a beautiful dream. Perhaps, one day, Aemon and Alysanne will share what we…,” Daenerys started until a roar from Drogon interrupted her wish. She glanced over Jon’s shoulder, seeing something was disturbing the dragons. _What is it, Drogon?_

“The signal has not been given,” Jon said, standing on his feet to look out onto the Blackwater. Daenerys turned away from her dragons to see the same lights flickering in the distance. “What do you think it is?”

“Tyrion said some maesters think dragons are smarter than men. Can they sense Euron’s fleet approaching?” Daenerys said, unsure if she was asking Jon or herself. As she thought on her words, Viserion took to the night sky, leaving them behind. “Viserion!”

“We should go,” Jon said, giving her one final look, tracing his fingers across her cheek as if he would never see her again. After one more kiss that was shorter than she would have liked, Jon continued, “Remember, do not stay in one place. Move fast and do not take the same path twice.”

“I will,” she said before turning on her heels to climb Drogon. Daenerys did not share Jon’s concern for the battle. Her dragons could not be brought down by men and they would protect herself from any arrow, she had thought. It was only after he reminded her of Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes that Daenerys gave his warnings any weight. “Sovegon!”

Drogon carried her over the sea, following Jon and Rhaegal south. Mile after mile, they passed the galleys trailing their fleet. Before they were ten miles from Driftmark, Viserion rejoined them, flying to her left while Rhaegal stuck to her right. With every passing ship and no sign of their fleet, Daenerys looked to Jon, trying to read his face in the dark of night.

Afraid they were close to reaching Sharp Point, Daenerys allowed the terrible thought of Jon being wrong about Cersei’s strategy to creep into her mind. She had never doubted him before and she wanted to curse herself. _He cannot be wrong. He can’t._

“Dany!” his voice was difficult to hear over the wind and the occasional clap of thunder in the distance. Taking her eyes off Drogon’s black scales, Daenerys retreated from her dark thoughts to find Jon pointing to the southwest. She followed his arm and saw thousands of small lights in the distance.

The flickering flames danced in the night, some larger than others. Daenerys never thought a battle on the Blackwater would remind her of the city of Meereen, but it did. From afar, the torches and blazing sails of burning ships looked remarkably similar to a city at night. It was only when the battle stood three or so miles away that she could tell there were ships burning and not candles in the windows of homes in a city.

Sharing one final nod with Jon, Daenerys silently prayed for his safety before sending Drogon into a dive toward the first grouping of longships she could see. There was a distinct line drawn between the Targaryen and Iron Fleet. Jon instructed each of their captains to illuminate their ships with lamps and torches, expecting the Euron Greyjoy to ambush their fleet under the cover of darkness.

Daenerys spied dozens of allied and enemy ships wrecking into one another and dozens more mixing their front lines. Her first strike needed to be swift and destructive. Ignoring the ships already wreathed in flame and men fighting atop their wooden decks, Daenerys guided Drogon toward the second line of longships. They were hurling flaming projectiles from their catapults and arrows from their archers, igniting the sails of Yara’s fleet.

“Dracarys!” Daenerys screamed to Drogon as soon as her dragon levelled out above the fray. It felt good to feel the heat from the dragonfire as Drogon laid a path of destruction southward across the second line of Euron’s fleet. One by one, she destroyed ship after ship, ending the rain of arrows and projectiles landing upon her own fleet. The further she flew, the more she could hear the screams of men facing their impending deaths.

When Daenerys reached the edge of the battle, she pulled on Drogon’s spikes to bank right to burn her enemy’s southern flank. Like before, Drogon cut through the sky, flying low above the billowing sails before he bathed them in dragonfire. Daenerys knew better, but she could not help herself from turning her attention to the destruction she had left in her wake. A wall of flame stretched for two miles across the sea. Within the flames, she could barely make out the sinking ships with men burning alive, unlucky to not have drowned. _They sealed their fates when they allied with Cersei. They will not receive my mercy._

To the north, Daenerys saw Jon had pinned their enemy with Rhaegal leaving his own path of death and destruction, destroying countless longships. As Drogon carried her west, she watched Rhaegal flying south with dragonfire cutting off any hope of escape for Euron Greyjoy’s Iron Fleet. They had successfully surrounded the attacking fleet with four walls of flame. Those lucky enough to escape the fires would drown.

Daenerys tried to steal a glimpse of Jon atop Rhaegal, but the sky was still too dark and Rhaegal too quick as he circled the battle in the opposite direction. After swinging around the rear of Euron’s fleet, Drogon led them through the center of the enemy’s mass, burning everything in their path that had not already been set aflame by Viserion.

While Rhaegal and Drogon had surrounded the Ironborn, Viserion wreaked havoc and terror upon the entire fleet. Her riderless dragon twisted and curved aimlessly, leaving the enemy without any of hope of guessing when their ship would be next. Drogon was more purposeful, following her direction. She intended to find Euron Greyjoy’s ship and destroy it before morning.

Her search required several passes, but Daenerys finally spotted Euron Greyjoy’s ship. As Yara had described it, Euron’s ship had a larger hull and greater sails than all the other longships in his fleet. Daenerys felt grateful that the soon-to-be former King of the Iron Islands made himself such an easy target. _He wanted to give me his big cock, I think Yara said. I will give him fire and blood, instead._

“Dracarys!” she screamed again, this time aiming for one ship instead of many. As Drogon lingered above the burning ship slowly sinking into the sea, Daenerys imagined Jon cursing her for disregarding their plan. _I will ask for his forgiveness later._

Before the entirety of Euron’s ship was swallowed by the sea, Daenerys looked at her surroundings, catching the fighting below. Men were running and fighting across the decks of the longships. Some flailed, covered in flame, praying to find the sea. Most were hacking and swinging at each other with sword, spear, and battleaxe. Daenerys was ready to return to the safety of the sky until she noticed Yara Greyjoy stumbling backwards.

There was no great care in her heart for Lady Greyjoy, but Yara was her best chance of ruling the Iron Islands without worry of a future rebellion. Trusting Drogon understood her intention, Daenerys urged her dragon forward to land on the nearby longship. Two men were crushed by Drogon when he landed on the ship’s deck, causing it to sink further and further into the sea.

Drogon’s heavy and sudden impact upon the ship unbalanced Yara’s foe and brought him into Drogon’s waiting mouth. The Ironborn screamed and cursed before Daenerys thought she heard the chilling laughter of a mad man. Her dragon did not fail her, ending the laughter as he whipped the man around like a piece of charred meat he would fight over with Viserion and Rhaegal.

An explosion of flame and wood from a nearby ship caught Daenerys’ attention, reminding her there was still a battle to be won. Daenerys thought it odd how Yara stared at what remained of the corpse Drogon left on her ship. _A man she knew, I presume._

Daenerys was glad Jon tore her from the haze that had befallen her. Returning to her King’s side, high above the battle, Daenerys looked on her love with pride. He was a true dragonlord and an even greater King. He foresaw their enemies’ trap and prevented the loss of her Dornish and Ironborn allies. _It would have been a massacre. Euron’s fleet was too many. Arianne and Yara would be dead or worse. And Tyrion would have failed me again._

Another hour passed before the sun reached above the eastern horizon. The end of the battle was slow and boring, requiring her or Jon’s intervention only for the occasional longship that escaped the flames, sailing for open sea. Most of their time was spent circling overhead, watching the survivors of the burning fleet drown or be killed by Yara’s men aboard their swift longships or Paxter Redwyne’s men sailing on their strong war galleys.

“Dany! Dragonstone!” she heard Jon call out. Daenerys nodded in agreement, turning Drogon north to return to their castle. Their fleet would reach Sharp Point before nightfall and Lord Willas Tyrell would lead their armies through the Crownlands and Stormlands, hoping to return to the Reach and Highgarden before the Lannister army marching down the Ocean Road. They would have another fortnight, perhaps less, with their children before leaving to defeat Jaime Lannister and the lords of the Westerlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My shortest and least favorite chapter, but there it is. Euron had to be dealt with and if were honest, he stood no chance against dragons (this Euron is based on show Euron). I wasn't going to reward the character with some miracle shot taking down Rhaegal in this. I hope this was not too similar to the battle I wrote for The Second Targaryen Dynasty. Anyway, next chapter should be a good one and one of my favorites. Jon and Daenerys get a welcome surprise upon their return to Dragonstone.
> 
> As always, please leave any comments, questions, criticisms, etc. below.


	10. Jon V

**Jon Snow**

“It happened just as you said it would,” Daenerys called out, walking toward him along the cliffs of Dragonstone. He did not see any wounds on Drogon nor any hurt in Daenerys’ face during their return. With the sun now high in the morning sky, Jon needed to reassure himself she was unharmed. “If I had listened to Tyrion…”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jon warned her, running his hands along her cheeks and neck, distrusting his eyes. He told her to make quick passes during their attack, but she ignored his wishes.

“I know,” Daenerys said in a somber tone, dropping her head in shame. Jon did not want her to feel shame or guilt, but he wanted her to know he cared. It pained him to see her like that and he pulled her into his embrace, kissing her silver braid as she buried her face in his chest.

“I trust you, but you cannot put yourself in danger more than you already have. You are our Queen. We cannot lose you,” Jon said as he watched Drogon and Rhaegal take off to join Viserion, circling the sky above their castle. “I was afraid, Dany. I was afraid of losing you.”

“And what about you?” Daenerys asked.

“What?” Jon replied, confused by her response. He took half a step away to see her face. Jon was unsure of her meaning and her ethereal eyes did not give him an answer.

“What about you? You are our King,” Daenerys said.

“I never wanted a throne. I never wanted a crown. You were born to rule. You know more about ruling than I. Without you, there would be no dragons. Without you, who do the Unsullied follow? Who do the Dothraki follow? You are more important. The Seven Kingdoms needs you. The North needs you. Our children need you,” Jon argued.

“But the throne is yours by right and you earned your crown, with a bastard’s name. Men follow you because they believe in you. You are my King because I believe in you. I believe in you more than anything in this world. Do you think I would believe another coming to me with tales of white walkers and night kings? You have proven yourself a good King and a great warrior. The Dothraki and Unsullied would follow you,” Daenerys said, but all he could do was shake his head in doubt. _I know nothing of ruling, not truly._

“They would, my love. Have faith…faith in yourself. And I promise, I will take more care as long as you can promise me the same. I dare not say it, but I must. We could lose everything, our crowns, our people, our lands, all of it. It could be Cersei or this Night King or some traitor who steals it all from us, but I will not lose you. I will not lose our family. No matter what happens, we must live. You must live, for myself and your mother. For Alysanne and Aemon,” Daenerys continued with tears in her eyes. Jon moved quickly to wipe away the single tear that managed to escape as he fought the small lump forming in his throat.

“I will,” Jon promised, no matter how much it pained him. He would take greater care in the war with the Lannisters, but he knew that was an impossibility when the war against the Night King would come. “And they will not take this from us, I won’t let them. I promise.”

“Mother! Father!” Jon and Daenerys broke apart at the sound of their children’s cries. Behind the little prince and princess came Lyanna Stark with Ghost padding across the uneven ground at her side. Further away, Jon saw the Kingsguard in their polished armor and white cloaks.

“Did you kill the krakens? Are they gone?” Alysanne asked as she snaked her small arms around his neck. Jon held her close, happy to have his daughter in his arms again.

“Aye, the krakens are gone, my little dragon,” Jon eased Alysanne’s worry. Hearing her giggles warmed his heart more than Alysanne could ever know. Remembering what he had learned in his short time with his children, Jon left a small peck on her brow. She always seemed to be happy when he gave her all of his attention and this time was the same.

“Now go hug your mother. She misses you,” he whispered in Alysanne’s ear before letting his daughter find her own feet again.

“You are unhurt, both of you,” his mother surprised him, wrapping him in her arms as he watched Alysanne hurry to Daenerys’ side. Jon was unsure if his mother was asking if he was unhurt or stating it as a matter of fact. It did not matter, because all he could think about was finally having a mother who loved him.

Jon felt like the little boy he once was in Winterfell and not a king, but he dared not say anything. The only thing he could do was return his mother’s embrace and hold onto her as long as she would have him. If there were any lingering doubts Jon still carried regarding his feelings toward his mother, he was sure they were gone.

“The Iron Fleet?” his mother asked, finally letting him go.

“Gone,” Jon said, still burdened with a sense of unease from the battle. Jon knew what the dragons could do, but seeing their destructive power with his own eyes was different than just knowing. The Ironborn had invaded the North and joined Cersei Lannister against his family, but it did not make it any easier. Rhaegal had burned thousands at his command and that scared him. Jon silently prayed they would not need them again before the war in the North, but that was a fool’s hope.

“At the bottom of the Blackwater,” Daenerys added, coming to his side with Aemon and Alysanne. “We may have lost a few ships, but they lost everything. Yara Greyjoy commands the Iron Fleet now.”

“I could have gone. I could have helped,” Aemon swore as Jon knelt down to muss his son’s raven hair and pull him into a hug.

“You were needed here, Aemon, protecting your sister and grandmother. That is more important than anything,” he tried to raise his son’s spirits. Jon could see it in his son’s eyes. _He does not believe that._

“I don’t need protection. I have Ghost!” Alysanne declared, quick to remind him she did not need her brother looking out for her.

“You still need your brother, Alysanne,” Daenerys came behind their daughter, resting a hand on her little shoulder. “And your brother needs you, sweetling, remember that.”

“Yes, Mother,” Alysanne answered, not sounding entirely convinced of Daenerys’ advice. Jon was sure this was not the first time Alysanne had heard that. “Can we go riding?”

“Not today,” Daenerys replied, knowing there was still much to be done. They needed to discuss the battle with their council and begin their plans for King’s Landing.

Jon could tell Alysanne and Aemon were beginning to tire as they chased Ghost around the pool for the fifth time. It had been an hour since they had returned, but Jon relented after his children begged to stay outside the castle walls for a little longer. He told them they could continue to play with his mother watching and Ghost protecting them, but they demanded he and Daenerys stay.

His presence was needed in the Chamber of the Painted Table, but Jon reasoned Lord Tyrion and Varys could wait. While he watched the children run and play, he struggled to keep his thoughts solely focused on them. For much of the time, he wondered how much progress Ser Davos had made with the dragonglass and when they should leave for Highgarden.

“So, when do you plan to leave?” his mother asked, standing to his right while Daenerys leaned into his left, clutching his arm.

“We haven’t decided. Lord Bar Emmon is to send a raven when Lord Willas and the Dothraki ride for Highgarden. I do not expect to receive one before the morrow. It will take some time to unload the entire khalasar and they will need their rest before riding hard for the Reach. Daenerys and I shouldn’t be needed until they reach Highgarden, but who is to say there will not be another trap waiting for us?” Jon revealed his thoughts on the matter, trying to guess what Jaime Lannister would do.

“There is a chance Cersei will hear of your army landing at Sharp Point. She has few allies, but I am sure there is no shortage of spies across the Seven Kingdoms that would not hesitate to sell you out for a few coppers,” his mother cautioned him. _She is right and the Dothraki are hard to miss._

“The dragons would not help matters, either,” Jon said, contemplating their options. “Dany, what do you think?”

“Ser Barristan has said Cersei has no friends in the Stormlands. From Sharp Point to Bitterbridge, our army should not face resistance or suffer spies from the stormlords. We should be with our army, to keep the Dothraki from killing the Tyrell men at the very least. What if…What if we wait for the khalasar to cross the Mander before flying to meet them? Our army can only be seen by those near the road. The dragons can be seen for miles. There is less risk, the further from King’s Landing we join our army,” Daenerys reasoned. “What do you think?” 

“I agree. We follow your plan,” Jon said, wanting to kiss her as she graced him with her beautiful smile.

“After you defeat Jaime Lannister and his army, what of King’s Landing?” his mother asked.

“We still need to speak with Varys and Tyrion, but the plans should remain the same,” Daenerys answered. Grey Worm would sail for Duskendale within the fortnight and march on King’s Landing, cutting off Cersei Lannister’s escape to the west until they arrived with their armies from Highgarden.

“Cersei will not leave the Red Keep. She is a fool and has no children to protect,” his mother offered her opinion. It was something in her voice that told him she disliked Cersei Lannister, but the reason was a mystery to him.

“Your Graces,” Ser Barristan Selmy called for them. Jon turned around to face the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Following the knight’s eyes, Jon saw a group of twenty or more Unsullied approaching, led by Grey Worm.

Grey Worm said something in High Valyrian only Daenerys could understand before stepping aside to reveal an old man walking amongst the Unsullied. Jon could not be sure, but the man dressed as a knight or even a lord of a minor House. It took him a few moments, but the smile on Daenerys’ face and the bear sigil on the man’s breastplate told him this was Ser Jorah Mormont.

Daenerys spoke their mother tongue, saying something that bid the Unsullied to lower their guard. Jon knew Ser Jorah had been banished twice by Daenerys and the Unsullied appeared to not have forgotten that. She told Jon she had sent him away to find a cure to his sickness and return to her. Part of him was happy for her and another part, angered that the knight had spied on his Queen.

“Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said on bended knee before Daenerys. Before he returned to his feet, the knight and former Lord of Bear Island looked to Jon, “Your Grace.”

“Jon, this is Ser Jorah Mormont,” Daenerys said.

“I served with your father. He was a great man,” Jon offered, not knowing what else to say. He was undecided on Ser Jorah.

“You look strong. You found a cure?” Daenerys continued with genuine concern for Ser Jorah.

“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. I return to your service, my Queen, if you’ll have me,” Jorah Mormont replied with a sorrowful look about his face. Jon decided he would decide for himself what he thought of Ser Jorah, but he sensed the man standing before him was honest and true, for the moment.

“It would be my honor,” Daenerys proclaimed, stepping forward to hug the old knight Ned Stark had sentenced to death. _I suppose I should be glad Ice never found his neck. He did save Dany in Meereen and Vaes Dothrak._

“We found the girl trying to sneak through the main gate,” Grey Worm said. _Girl? What girl?_

Jon looked to the Unsullied, seeing no one, until two of the soldiers stepped aside. It felt as if his heart nearly stopped when he saw her face. With Daenerys, he at least knew she was alive. The little sister he once knew was not dead. She was standing before him, alive and a woman grown. _She is still little…and she still has Needle._

Without thinking, Jon found his feet carrying him toward Arya. He wanted to say something, but his voice failed him when he opened his mouth. Arya met him halfway, running into his arms once the Unsullied realized she was not their prisoner.

“Arya…I thought you were dead,” he confessed in a near whisper. Jon made sure he was not dreaming this as he settled her on the ground, resting a caring hand on her shoulder. “How?”

“It is a long story. I am sure yours is as well,” Arya said before eyeing Daenerys, who remained behind him. “I was headed to King’s Landing when I heard you were named King in the North. I rode for Winterfell, but the men at Moat Cailin said you sailed for Dragonstone…”

“Why were you going to King’s Landing?” Jon asked, confused by Arya’s words. _Why did she not come to Castle Black? Where have you been, Arya?_

“To kill Cersei,” Arya said with a coldness in her heart. Jon laughed until he realized she was serious. _Gods, what has happened to her?_ “Why are you here? You trust the Targaryen Queen?”

“Jon…,” Daenerys said, coming to his side with her arm entwined with his. Arya looked at Daenerys with the suspicion one would hold for an enemy.

“Daenerys, this is my…sister, Arya Stark,” Jon answered, happy to find a smile on his queen’s face. “Arya, this is my Queen, Daenerys Targaryen.”

“You are wed?” Arya questioned with a strange look. Jon was not sure if she was angry, sad, or something else entirely.

“Not yet, but soon, I hope. We wanted to wait until Winterfell, but circumstance may demand a wedding sooner. I am happy to see you alive. Sometimes, I feared the worst. Jon told me all about you in Pentos,” Daenerys answered.

“I told you Ghost was faster than a horse!” Jon heard his daughter’s voice approaching from behind, likely arguing with Aemon.

“Pentos?” Arya looked even more confused.

“Arya…,” Jon started, but held his tongue when Alysanne came crashing into his side. His daughter’s silver hair was a mess and she was huffing, nearly out of breath.

“Father! Father! I beat Aemon,” Alysanne made sure everyone heard, proud of her victory in the race he was forced to take his eyes from.

“I let you,” Aemon argued, displeased his sister had told everyone of his defeat. It was in that moment, Jon realized their guards and Ser Jorah had stepped away, giving them some semblance of privacy.

“Aemon!” Daenerys calmed their son, warning him to end the argument with warning eyes.

He could see it all on Arya’s face. She was shocked to see him with Daenerys and children of his own, at their age. Jon could see it in her eyes. Arya had a thousand questions for him and he was sure she would not leave them unanswered before the day met its end.

“Arya, I wanted to tell you. I did. When I went with Un…Father to Pentos, I met Daenerys and…,” Jon searched for the right words, not knowing how to tell it all without spending hours recounting the tale. “I met Daenerys in Pentos. This is Aemon and Alysanne, my children.”

“You’re Aunt Arya,” Alysanne said, stepping forward to hug Arya. Jon was happy to see Aemon join his sister. “You grew up in Winterfell with Father. I wish we had a castle in Essos. Grandmother said Great Uncle Ned let you shoot arrows in the training yard. I can use a bow.”

“You mean Grandfather Ned?” Arya replied with a small laugh that had its own sadness.

“Great Uncle Ned is our Great Uncle,” Aemon replied, knowing what Arya did not.

“Arya…Aemon, Alysanne, go play with Ghost. I must speak with your aunt,” Jon told his children, unsure where his conversation would lead. He did not know how Arya would take it and did not want to confuse the children.

“But…Aunt Arya…,” Alysanne protested with her big amethyst eyes and a pout on her lips that made it difficult to deny her wishes.

“Alysanne, you heard your father. Now, you and your brother, go play with Ghost,” Daenerys demanded their obedience. The prince and princess hesitated for a moment until they gathered this was not a fight they could win with pouting faces and sweet words. Jon waited for them to run after Ghost before he turned to Arya.

“Arya, there is something I must tell you. I’m not…I’m not a Stark,” he finally said it.

“Of course you are. You are my brother,” Arya disagreed, giving him a funny look. He also picked up on her occasional glances toward his mother. _She still does not know. She thinks her a stranger._

“I’m not,” Jon affirmed, not knowing how to tell her the rest.

“You are. I don’t care who your mother was, you are my brother. Ned Stark was our father and that is all that matters,” Arya replied, worrying him what she would think when she learned the truth. _Do not hate me Arya, not you._

“Ned Stark isn’t his father,” his mother stepped forward, brushing against his shoulder to face Arya. Something told him his uncle would have liked to seen them meet.

“And who are you? What do you know of our father? Jon is my brother,” Arya scowled at his mother. Arya no longer held a child’s anger, but Jon could tell she was raging inside like she did with Sansa when they were little.

“Ned was right about you. You remind me a little of myself,” his mother mused, leaving Arya’s angered face unchanged. “I know because I am his mother, Arya Stark. I am Lady Lyanna Stark, your aunt. And Jon…my son was born King Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen, third of his name.”

“What?” Arya stepped back in disbelief, scaring him as she looked away, trying to put the pieces together. “That means…”

“I was wed to Rhaegar. He did not kidnap or rape me. He loved me,” his mother told Arya. “I tried to warn my fathers and brothers, but the raven never reached them. I do not know how. I have tried to learn the truth and…it does not matter now. My brother took Jon and protected him as his own.”

Jon said nothing, knowing his mother was withholding her true feelings. _I will thank her later. The last thing I want is conflict with Arya. Not now._

“I understand if you…,” Jon tried to tell her he understood how she felt, but she interrupted.

“You are still my brother. I don’t care,” Arya swore, hugging him again. _And you are still my sister, always._

Jon did not see or hear Allyria’s approach until it was too late. She had already dismounted her mare and marched in their direction with a hopeful smile on her face. He did not think this was the best time to reveal another hidden truth to Arya, but Jon was unsure when that time would be. _Allyria is so much like Arya. She would not wait either, if she knew._

“Arya?” Allyria called out just as Jon released his sister from his grasp. “You’re alive. I told them you were alive. I told them.”

Arya was lost and confused, looking to Jon for answers while Allyria wrapped her in an inescapable embrace. They did not look like sisters, save their similar riding breeches and the swords resting on their belts. Allyria was tall and a Dornish beauty that mirrored her mother. Arya was short and skinny with fair northern skin. Both had dark hair, but Jon could see Allyria’s was a pure onyx, darker than Arya’s.

“Who are you?” Arya asked.

“Your sister. Your bastard sister,” Allyria let out with trepidation, realizing what she was telling Arya. “My name is Allyria Dayne. Her Grace, Daenerys...Dany, legitimized me.”

“It’s true,” Jon told Arya when she looked to him for confirmation.

“My father, our father, did not know of me. Not until after the rebellion,” Allyria slowed her words, seeing as Jon did, Arya was trying to understand everything she thought she knew was a lie. “My mother is Lady Ashara Dayne. I have been waiting to meet you since as long as I can remember. Dany told me what Jon had spoken of you and our brothers and sisters. I know what you must think. I am sorry…”

“Don’t, you are my sister. I don’t care if you have a different mother, you are my blood. If Jon says you are my sister, you are my sister,” Arya said, brightening Allyria’s smile. Seeing Allyria’s sword, she jested, “I think I will get along with you more than Sansa.”

“Arya, Rickon…,” Jon did not think he could keep the news from her any longer.

“I know,” Arya said. “At least you killed the Boltons. Bran?”

“I don’t know. My friend let him through the Wall, but that was years ago,” Jon said, reminded of another tale he would have to tell her with more details.

“I was sorry to hear of Robb and your Lady Mother. They did not deserve it,” Allyria said with a depressed tone. “I wish I had known him…We will have our revenge, once we are finished with the Lannisters.”

“House Frey will pay for their crimes, with fire and blood,” Daenerys promised Arya. Jon did not want to burn castles, but he was not going to stop Daenerys from turning the Twins into a pile of molten stone.

“You no longer have to worry about House Frey,” Arya said.

“Why?” Daenerys asked.

“They were on my list,” Arya answered. Jon looked to his sister, waiting for an explanation. _List? What list?_ “I will tell it as best I can….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya found her way to Dragonstone. Unsure if next chapter will be Highgarden or another at Dragonstone. I probably could have done more with the scene, but I felt like a lot of it would have been a retelling of each character's past.
> 
> Please leave any questions, comments, criticisms, etc. below.


	11. Jon VI

**Jon Snow**

Winter was here, but Jon could not tell it from the rays of sunlight piercing through the branches and leaves above. They were hidden amongst peach and fireplum, apple and pear. But they did not hide out of fear. Jon was waiting for the Lannister army and the battle that would rid Cersei Lannister of what little power she held.

Jon kept his eyes on the white stone walls and the tall towers of Highgarden, waiting for the signal that the lords and knights of the Westerlands had arrived. Highgarden was an impressive castle, filled with beautiful gardens, green groves, sprinkling fountains, and tall towers with comfortable quarters fit for a king and queen. The lands surrounding the seat of House Tyrell were just as impressive. It seemed every tree for miles had delicious fruits hanging from their limbs.

When he dared to take his mind off the battle at hand, he did what he promised himself he would not. He imagined his future. A future with Daenerys as his wife and himself, the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Cruel thoughts and images crept into his mind, tormenting him with a future that seemed too good to be true. He could see Alysanne dancing through the orchard where they stood. She was laughing and singing and living the life of a true Targaryen princess.

_No, I shouldn’t dream of such things. There are still two wars to fight, one we can still lose and another we will likely lose. How can I promise Daenerys I will protect her? How can I promise Aemon and Alysanne will see another summer?_

“Jon…Jon,” Daenerys tore his eyes from Highgarden to the north with a gentle hand on his arm. When he turned to face her, he was rewarded with the vision of her beauty. He wanted to tell her to go and fly away on Drogon. Jon wanted her far away from the battle and all the other dangers in the world. He was wise enough to hold his tongue, knowing Daenerys would refuse. _I will not give her up again. I will protect her until the end of my days._

“What is it?” he asked, seeing the three knights of their Kingsguard standing behind her. Drogon and Rhaegal lingered further away, tearing at the charred cattle and goats they had claimed for themselves. Jon looked for Ghost until he remembered his direwolf was far away, on Dragonstone, protecting his family with Viserion.

“The scouts have returned, your Grace,” Ser Barristan Selmy stepped forward in his gold and silver armor with his helm in hand. “Thirty thousand, maybe more. I do not think they have seen the Dothraki. They continue to advance and their outriders have come within sight of the castle.”

“Thirty thousand…,” Jon said, afraid to see what thirty thousand burning corpses looked like. He prayed some would find their senses and throw down their arms. Jon was sure many would surrender once the battle turned for the worse, but he was afraid to see what the Dothraki would do. Their reputation preceded them and he silently questioned whether they would follow his orders or even Daenerys’.

“Have there been any ravens from Duskendale?” Daenerys asked only to receive a shake of the head from Ser Barristan. The Unsullied were to land at Duskendale after the khalasar reached Highgarden. It had been two days since they set camp in the woodlands surrounding the seat of House Tyrell.

Jon was confident word from Ser Jorah and Grey Worm would reach them soon. Eight thousand Unsullied and their bannermen from the Crownlands were to gather at Duskendale before the march on King’s Landing. Two thousand Unsullied remained on Dragonstone, under the command of his mother and Ser Davos Seaworth, an easy choice considering his familiarity with the island and its castle. With Euron Greyjoy’s fleet a burnt ruin at the bottom of Blackwater Bay, Jon was confident the Targaryen, Velaryon, Redwyne, and Greyjoy fleets were within sight of the capital by now.

“Did the scouts say when they think the Lannister army will reach the fields?” Jon inquired. Their plan of attack required Jaime Lannister to bring his army within sight of Highgarden to make camp in the fields to the north. If they were to stop further away, the risk of their hidden khalasar being discovered increased dramatically.

If Jaime Lannister was patient, he would send scouts out for miles, searching for signs of a trap. Anticipating the Kingslayer would be a more cautious battle commander after being tricked by Robb Stark, Jon ordered Willas Tyrell have word spread up the Ocean Road that the Dornish army was nearing Highgarden. He wanted the westermen marching hard and fast, unprepared for a battle on the first day.

“Midday, perhaps sooner,” Barristan answered, but it was just the opinions of scouts. There was no way to be sure.

“What will we do if they make camp across the Mander?” Daenerys asked.

“Attack them in the night, set their camp afire, and scatter them until there is no army left,” Jon said, questioning if they should have flown north along the Ocean Road to defeat Jaime Lannister with dragons alone.

“Your Graces, I must implore you stay out of this battle. The Dothraki are more than enough to defeat the lords of the Westerlands. Do not risk yourselves,” Ser Barristan pleaded. Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne seemed to agree, but said nothing when he looked to them.

“The Dothraki will defeat their army, but it is not their army I am worried about. I want Jaime Lannister dead or in chains. With the dragons, we can cut off any escape,” Jon revealed his greatest reason for even involving himself and Daenerys in the battle. It was unspoken, but understood he also wanted to save as many of their men as possible for the war against the Night King and the Army of the Dead.

“Better he is put in chains. With the Kingslayer as our prisoner, Cersei will think twice about what she does to the people of King’s Landing,” Daenerys said.

It was past midday when they heard the faint sound of three horn blasts. Jon knew it was coming, but a feeling of dread still found its way to his heart. He found some comfort the horn blasts came from a Lannister army, not a brother of the Night’s Watch standing guard atop the Wall.

With a silent nod to Daenerys, they both turned on their heels to join their dragons behind them. The Kingsguard fell in behind them, remaining constant shadows until they reached Rhaegal and Drogon. Jon thought it absurd, considering there were no signs of an enemy around them. The only other men nearby were the beginnings of their household guard. Ser Barristan filled their ranks with loyal men, low and highborn. Most hailed from the Crownlands and Stormlands, all known to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

“Ser Barristan, tell me we can trust Lord Willas and Ser Garlan to follow the plan,” Jon said as they walked under a canopy of peach trees toward the peak of the hill. Jon did not know the Tyrells and felt hesitant to fully trust them. They had bent the knee to Daenerys, but he could not forget their alliance with Renly Baratheon and the Lannisters after his death.

Jon still felt regret over his charge toward the Bolton lines outside the walls of Winterfell. He had let Rickon’s death affect his judgement and many men lost their lives for it. He could not say whether they would have perished regardless of his action, but it still weighed heavily on him. _I made a mistake after losing a brother. Will the Tyrells do the same after losing their sister, brother, and father?_

“They swore to follow you, my King. Both are sworn knights and I have only ever known them to be men of honor,” Ser Barristan vouched for the Tyrells, giving Jon little comfort. He had heard enough of the same said about other lords, southern and northern.

“Edric will be the first through the gates with his cavalry. He will keep the Tyrells and the lords of the Reach from riding out too soon,” Arthur Dayne calmed his worry.

On Dragonstone, Jon quickly took a liking to Ser Arthur Dayne. The knight was a legendary warrior and a better swordsman than the tales told. He was a man of few words, like himself, and a most welcome councilor who provided sound advice. On the road from Bitterbridge, where Jon and Daenerys joined the khalasar, the Sword of the Morning told him a great deal about his father. They were the best of friends and Jon hoped he could earn Ser Arthur’s loyalty as his father had.

“With your leave, we will join the Dothraki reserves after you enter the battle,” Ser Oswell Whent requested, much to Jon’s displeasure as they reached the dragons. Jon contemplated the decision. Part of him felt unworthy to deny the requests of such legendary knights, but he knew what a good king would decide.

“No,” Jon said firmly, running his hand along Rhaegal’s warm, green scales. _You must be quick today, my friend. We are not attacking an unsuspecting foe in the night._

“You are our most trusted battle commanders. You are needed in the wars to come. Victory is assured today. You will not risk your lives,” Daenerys voiced their shared reason. Each of them bowed their heads and turned away to give himself and Daenerys some privacy before the battle.

“Promise me you will be careful,” Jon demanded in a hushed tone, gently caressing her cheek.

“I should say the same to you,” Daenerys whispered before surprising him with a forceful kiss. She tasted like the peaches and fireplums found in the trees surrounding them. But more than that, she tasted like his queen and his wife.

“Promise me,” he said again when their lips were parted.

“I will,” Daenerys relented with a soft smile. She squeezed his hands one more time before leaving him to climb onto Drogon. Jon did not move, staring at her like a lovesick boy watching a Valyrian goddess climb onto the beasts of legend. When she gave him a strange look, he cursed himself and climbed onto his own mount.

They waited, like they had hours before, waiting for Rakharo, Kovarro, and Qhono to lead one hundred and fifty thousand riders from the tree line below. Just like the battle at Winterfell, it was quiet and boring. Jon relaxed, knowing there was nothing they could do. They had a plan and they would stick to it. If the sun were to fall below the horizon without a banner hanging from Highgarden’s southern parapets, they would be forced to attack in the night.

Daenerys did not share his ease. She looked restless, ready to get on with it. A minute could not pass without her looking to him for assurances that nothing was amiss. Jon only shook his head and silently told her to wait.

“Jon!” Daenerys yelled when hundreds, then thousands of Dothraki riders emerged from the tree line below. Highgarden was too far away for themselves to spot the banner that signaled the entirety of the Lannister army was in the fields north of the castle. Jon could not see the Lannister army either, but he knew it was there, beyond the white walls and the magnificent towers of Highgarden.

“Wait until half are past the walls!” Jon cautioned Daenerys, carefully watched the fields turn from the green of grass to the black, brown, and copper of a Dothraki horde. Kovarro was leading their left flank with forty thousand of their best riders who would cut off the escape to the Ocean Road. Rahkaro led the center, riding past Highgarden’s western walls while Qhono led the remaining riders past the eastern walls.

As they had planned it, Drogon and Rhaegal took to the sky, flying just above the trees below. Highgarden still obstructed their view of the battlefield, but it also kept their presence a secret from Jaime Lannister and his army. The dragons covered the great distance between the hill they previously occupied and the walls of the castle in little time.

The first wave of Dothraki were past the walls, with only the twenty thousand riders in reserve trotting their horses across the fields south of the castle. Highgarden’s southern battlements were sparsely protected, guarded mostly by boys and old men. The only real soldiers he spotted were the men tasked with dropping the Tyrell banner over the wall to signal their enemy was in place.

With the castle fast approaching, Jon pulled on Rhaegal so they would climb and crest over the towers of Highgarden. Daenerys and Drogon stayed at their side, rising above the castle’s center to glimpse the battlefield for the first time. Immediately, Jon could see the Lannisters abandoning their preparations to make camp and readying a defensive position. The armies of Dorne and the Reach cheered below, seeing the dragons fly into the fray.

The khalasar was already filling the battlefield, riding out to meet the uneven Lannister lines. Kovarro and his men were far ahead of the rest, racing to the point where the Ocean Road crossed the Mander. The bloodrider and his host were far ahead, reassuring Jon there would be no escape to the west. The Lannisters would have to fight, flee to the east, or cross the stream that fed the Mander at their backs.

Roars from Rhaegal and Drogon made their presence known if the soldiers from the Westerlands had not seen them already. They were flying above the leading Dothraki riders, ready to meet the Lannister line before the first arakh was swung in anger. Jon focused on breaking their center, staying right beside his queen.

“Dracarys!” he screamed the tongue that was still foreign to him. Rhaegal did not notice his self-doubt, answering his call with a wave of dragonfire pouring onto the soldiers below like the waves of the Blackwater crashing into the jagged rocks of Dragonstone. He was sure hundreds perished in the first attack as Rhaegal and Drogon built a wall of flame from the Lannister line, through their supply train, and to the rear where hundreds of tents had already been erected.

Rhaegal’s flame extinguished when they reached the stream and there were no enemies left to burn. At his command, Rhaegal turned west while Daenerys led Drogon to the east. A quick glance of their path of destruction showed a broken center and thousands of Dothraki riders pouring through, wreaking havoc amongst the Westermen.

With the battlefield thrown into chaos as the Lannister line dissolved into a Dothraki massacre, Jon led Rhaegal in their burning of the tents standing along the banks of the stream until they reached the Mander. Thousands of arakhs rose in the air with the screams of Dothraki riders as Rhaegal cast his shadow on Kovarro’s men riding along the Ocean Road. To his surprise, he saw the Dothraki accepting surrender from the boys and old men who were at the rear of the supply train still crossing the bridge at the Mander.

Their presence was not needed to the west, so Jon turned back and sent Rhaegal into another attack through the Lannister center. Hundreds, if not thousands more died in the flames Jon had unleashed with his dragon. What he saw below was worse than the battle at the Gullet. The night sky, burning sails, and the dark sea masked much of the horrors of dragonfire. In the fields north of Highgarden, he could see every man that flailed around, covered in flame, until they were no more.

Seeing there was little more for Rhaegal to do, Jon turned his dragon toward the south rather than risk killing his own men. Edric Dayne and his Dornish knights were riding out of the castle gates. Jon was unsure if their numbers were needed. The battle was already won with their enemy either dead, in retreat, or attempting to surrender.

Just when Jon felt confident with his abilities as a dragonrider, Rhaegal did not follow his command to continue toward Highgarden. Jon was so sure he would not need to pester Daenerys with questions again. He was ready to curse himself until he heard the heart-sinking cry from Drogon. To the north, the black dragon was falling with no air under his wings.

“Daenerys!” Jon screamed in horror, urging Rhaegal to fly faster than he ever had. Jon panicked, searching for her on Drogon’s back. He could not see her silver hair as Drogon twisted and tumbled in the sky above the battlefield.

It felt like an eternity as Drogon continued to fall and twist and fall. Everything Jon had hoped and dreamed was falling with the dragon. He was prepared to kill them all as he feared the worst. Rhaegal raced toward the battlefield with all his strength, ready to turn the fields into a sea of fire.

Jon’s prayers were answered when Drogon halted his descent with his great wings spread wide and Daenerys still perched on his shoulders. With another great roar, a wave of dragonflame came forth from Drogon’s snout. The wagon below was consumed in flame and the men who were nearby with it.

Drogon was stationary, making for an easy target. Daenerys was vulnerable and Jon sent Rhaegal into another attack, burning the center of the Lannister ranks as best he could. They burned little, avoiding the killing of their own men while Drogon landed near the edge of the stream that laid at the Lannister’s backs.

Fear in battle had never consumed him like it had when Rhaegal turned back to protect Daenerys and Drogon. Daenerys was all that mattered to him and she was on the ground, pulling at a spear that was buried in her dragon’s scales. The longer she pulled and tugged on the spear, the more he wanted to scream as his heart beat like a war drum inside his chest. It was made all the worst when he saw the man in crimson armor with a lance in hand, riding toward his queen.

“Dany!” Jon screamed, afraid Rhaegal would not reach the rider in time. Again, time slowed with his love’s life in peril. His dragon could not carry him fast enough to protect her. _Faster, Rhaegal! Faster!_ Jon did not even allow his thoughts to wonder what would happen if she fell. That was not something he would allow. “Drogon!” he called for his queen’s dragon when she finally turned to see her attacker.

To his relief, a wall of flame from Drogon shielded Daenerys from the attacking knight. Jon wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the rider escape before his horse was engulfed in dragonflame. Rhaegal was just as panicked as Jon, burning the nearest enemy soldiers as they touched the ground. The green-scaled dragon built a wall of flame around them as Jon slid from his shoulder and ran toward Daenerys with Longclaw in hand.

Five men stood between himself and Daenerys. The first two were caught unawares, his Valyrian steel opening their throats before the third knight in retreat noticed him. Jon parried two blows before removing the man’s left hand with one strike and cutting him down at the knee with a second. The final blow was at his neck. The last two westermen were really just boys who should have never set foot on the battlefield. They were brave, but unskilled. Because they stood between himself and protecting Daenerys, Jon cut them down without mercy, not even receiving a defensive parry from the boys.

“Dany! Dany! Are you hurt?” Jon asked, frantically searching for any signs of blood on her face or her dark blue dress. He saw mud on her leather boots, but nothing else. There was not so much as a dirt mark on her skirts as far as he could tell. Her skin was still fair and unblemished. She did not even have the sweat of battle on her brow.

“I am fine. I am safe,” she assured him as he cupped her jaw with his gloved hand.

“Stay behind me,” Jon said before turning around to see Rhaegal looking for more men to burn. Their Dothraki were permitted to pass, unharmed, proving the dragons were intelligent beasts.

Dozens of men were crossing the stream in crimson armor, attempting to escape the battle that destroyed their army in a matter of minutes. Jon wanted to order the Dothraki to chase down the men, but he did not know their tongue. Daenerys saved him in that moment, yelling orders in Dothraki that the riders understood. The retreating forces were either cut down or corralled back to the scorched ground of the battlefield.

“I thought I lost you,” Jon said, turning to look upon Daenerys again once they were surrounded by hundreds of Dothraki. “I should have never let you near this battlefield.”

“Nonsense,” she replied as he expected she would. Jon wanted to argue, but thought better of it when he saw the amethyst flames dancing in her eyes. He would never win, no matter what he said.

“We must be careful when we attack King’s Landing. If they brought a scorpion with them here, I am sure there are dozens in the city,” he said after finally sheathing Longclaw in the scabbard at his hip.

“I will be more careful,” Daenerys almost whispered with a guilty voice. It was the best he was going to get from his queen and he decided to accept it.

“Is it him?” Daenerys asked when Edric Dayne came forth with three of his knights. They had sent Arthur’s nephew to see if it was true Jaime Lannister was amongst the prisoners guarded by Randyll Tarly’s men.

“Lord Randyll has the Kingslayer in chains,” Edric confirmed.

“Bring him before us,” Daenerys ordered before dismissing their bloodriders in Dothraki.

“Kill him and be done with it, your Graces. Cersei has no hostages. She has nothing or anyone of value to trade,” Ser Garlan Tyrell begged once the Dornish were gone to retrieve Ser Jaime. Jon was sure the knight would be forever grateful if he were given the honor of taking Jaime Lannister’s head.

“No, she just has a million people inside King’s Landing,” Daenerys said dismissively, tired of the Tyrell’s thirst for blood. If the Tyrells and their bannermen had command of the battlefield, there would surely be no prisoners.

“He did escape your cousin’s guard twice, did he not?” Daenerys asked in a hushed tone after stepping away from their meeting at the center of the battlefield. Plumes of smoke filled the air with ashes and embers covering the scorched ground. Five thousand Westermen were all that remained. The rest laid across the battlefield as burnt or bloodied corpses. The Dothraki left little wounded.

“Aye, he did,” Jon admitted after looking around to ensure no one could hear their conversation, save their Kingsguard. “Daenerys, we shouldn’t have him killed. Not yet. He will have guards from the Reach and Dorne, all from different Houses.”

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asked.

“Fifty guards, day and night, should be enough,” Jon said, confident Edric Dayne would prevent any escape.

“The Dornish hate Lannisters just as much as the Tyrells,” Daenerys reminded him.

“We will add Dothraki to his guards,” Jon agreed just as the Dornish returned with Jaime Lannister in chains. The former Kingsguard looked almost the same as when Jon saw him at Winterfell. Only now, Ser Jaime’s face was marked with blood, ash, and dirt, and he wore the armor of House Lannister. Jon noted the golden hand in place of his sword hand.

Edric Dayne’s men threw him to the ground before them. Jon waited for the Kingslayer to recover, kneeling with his hands shackled in irons. This was not the knight Jon remembered. Ser Jaime seemed less arrogant, either from the humbling defeat or years of war.

“What is Ned Stark’s bastard doing in the Reach, allied with a Targaryen queen no less?” Ser Jaime spoke first, surprising Jon that he even remembered his face.

“You’re speaking to the King,” Ser Barristan said, stepping forward with his hand secured around the grip of his sheathed sword.

“Ah, Ser Barristan. I told my sister it was a mistake, dismissing you. Tell me, did you forget to tell your queen, the Starks helped overthrow her family?” Jaime replied, not taking his eyes off Ser Barristan.

“That was long ago. Houses Targaryen and Stark are now allied. The entire Realm is allied against your sister, Kingslayer,” Daenerys said, standing close enough to Jon so that Jaime understood he was her king, and she, his queen.

“Kingslayer…,” Jaime echoed, almost laughing at the name the Seven Kingdoms had given him. Jon was ready to send him away until Jaime’s eyes turned to his. “Tell me, how did Ned Stark’s bastard go from Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch to King in the North? Your Grace, I am afraid you are wed to an oathbreaker.”

“He is no oathbreaker,” Ser Arthur Dayne stepped forward. Jaime Lannister froze, looking like he had seen a ghost when Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell came to stand before him. “And he is no bastard. You are kneeling before Rhaegar’s trueborn son, King Jaehaerys Targaryen, third of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

“Arthur…Oswell…,” Jaime Lannister was left speechless, reconsidering many truths that were now lies. After a long silence, Jaime spoke again, “That means….Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark…You are Lyanna Stark’s son?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed.

“And she is alive,” Jaime Lannister did not ask. Jon did not know how he saw the truth, but he did.

“Take him away,” Jon ordered Edric Dayne and his men. “Ser Barristan, see to it he does not escape. I do not want any of the other prisoners near him.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Barristan bowed before disappearing with the Dornish knights.

“Lord Willas, gather your bannermen. We must plan the march on King’s Landing,” Daenerys ordered before turning to Princess Arianne Martell who simply nodded her head, not needing any orders spoken.

“How long should we stay with the army?” Daenerys asked, already eager to return to Dragonstone on dragonback. She missed their children as much as he did.

“Until we break camp and begin the march. We will not be needed on the Roseroad. In two days, we fly for Dragonstone, do you agree?” he replied.

“Aye,” Daenerys said, inching forward to kiss him until she remembered they were not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for those interested in this story. I was busy writing for Targaryen Supremacy. Next chapter should not take as long. If you noticed, no Tarly betrayal some Sam can cry about Daenerys being evil or whatever they tried to sell on the show. Next chapter should be back on Dragonstone w/ Lyanna, targs, Arya, Allyria, etc.
> 
> Please leave any comments, questions, criticisms, etc. below.


	12. Daenerys VI

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Dragonstone was as silent as a crypt. If it were not for the Unsullied opening the main gate and the torches illuminating the main yard, one would be forgiven if they thought the castle were abandoned. The ramparts no longer brimmed with Unsullied standing between every merlon. Dothraki did not ride past the castle walls screaming battle cries. Her Martell and Tyrell allies were nowhere to be seen, gone, riding north on the Roseroad for King’s Landing.

Daenerys returned to her home knowing a little more of her kingdom. Westeros was no longer just Dragonstone or Jon’s tales of Winterfell or her Kingsguard’s memories of the countless castles, rivers, towns, and farms they had seen. She had finally seen the lands she would come to rule for herself. The Seven Kingdoms were not the Free Cities or the Bay of Dragons or the Dothraki Sea.

Atop Drogon, Daenerys saw the endless forest of the Kingswood, the rich farmlands of the Reach, the never-ending twists and turns of the Mander, and the beauty of Highgarden and all its wonders. It was all she dreamed of as an exiled princess in Essos, but now that she was a queen, there was still something missing. Leading her forces to and from Highgarden did not allow her to see and speak with the people she meant to rule. She decided that would have to wait, when the wars were done and a royal progress could be made.

Black Shield, the captain left in charge of the Unsullied remaining on Dragonstone, was the first to greet them. Daenerys felt safe inside her own castle with Jon at her side, but she accepted her men’s escort nonetheless. She could still sense Jon’s unease with guards shadowing their every move as they crossed the empty yard to reach the Stone Drum.

Like the castle grounds outside, the Stone Drum was silent and almost empty. Unsullied stood here and there, outside certain chambers and at the corner of meeting corridors. The castle was asleep and none of its inhabitants were expecting their king and queen to return in the middle of the night.

“What is it?” Daenerys asked when she found Jon was not coming with her to their chambers. She could see the door to her room and the promise of sleep, but Jon halted in the middle of the corridor. _What is wrong?_

“I need to see them. It’s the longest I have gone without seeing them. I…,” Jon explained as she realized he was standing outside their children’s chambers.

“I understand,” Daenerys said, placing her hands over his as she looked up at Jon’s tired eyes. She wondered if what he felt was anything like what she felt on the Dothraki Sea when Drogon refused to return her to Meereen. Moons were spent away from Aemon and Alysanne, but somehow, Daenerys felt Jon’s hurt was tenfold. Daenerys did not know what it felt like to be parted from her children for years.

Daenerys followed Jon into their children’s chambers to find the solar just as they had left it. Swords, bows, carved dragons, and the odd doll were strewn across the floor. With a few careful steps, she avoided the mess on the floor and made her way to Aemon’s open doorway.

“Do you want to wake him?” Daenerys asked as she leaned her head against Jon’s shoulder, watching Aemon sleep peacefully in his feathered bed covered by a mountain of furs, readied for winter.

“No, leave him be,” Jon whispered before Ghost pawed at his face, sleeping at the foot of Aemon’s bed. It was a surprise to see the direwolf not wake to their presence.

“We were not expecting you,” Arya startled Daenerys. She nearly jumped at the sound of the Stark girl’s voice behind her.

“Father!” Alysanne yelled, running across the solar and through the doorway, brushing past Arya. Before Daenerys could ask the princess what she was doing awake at this hour, Alysanne had already leapt into Jon’s arms, giving him a fierce hug. “I’ve missed you. I tried to get Viserion to take me to Highgarden, but Grandmother wouldn’t let me.”

“What did I tell you, Alysanne?” Daenerys warned her daughter. Alysanne ignored her and buried her face in Jon’s shoulder as she clung to him as if he meant to leave forever.

“She isn’t afraid, that one,” Arya observed, coming to stand beside Daenerys. Jon’s cousin was an odd girl. Daenerys had yet to see Arya in a dress and decided she would likely never see that sight.

“Mother! I told them you would return,” Aemon was suddenly at her side, hugging her with all his might. The once quiet castle now seemed as loud as a feast in a great hall or at least what Daenerys thought a celebratory feast would sound like.

“He has made the same promise for three days now,” Allyria added, coming to stand beside her half-sister. _They are getting along._ “Highgarden?”

“The Kingslayer is in chains and his army defeated. Most of them fell on the battlefield. Thousands were taken prisoners, still,” Daenerys informed Allyria before kissing her son’s raven curls.

“And my uncle?” Allyria asked. _Forgive me, I am forgetful._

“He is safe, as are Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan. They are leading our army up the Roseroad,” Daenerys replied, still feeling thankful for the few losses they incurred in the Reach. As Aemon’s arms eased, Daenerys pushed him toward Jon. “Go on, go to your father.”

Daenerys watched her son rush over to Jon, who happily embraced Aemon’s hug. Aemon joined his sister in telling what had happened on Dragonstone since they had left. Alysanne spoke of riding horses and attempting to climb onto Viserion. Aemon boasted of training Ghost to hunt on the island and improving his skill with his practice sword.

“Has there been any news from the North?” Daenerys asked, looking to Arya and Allyria. Neither offered a response, only shaking their heads. _Perhaps it is a good thing a raven has not come from Winterfell or Castle Black. Dark wings bring dark words._ “Have you sent a raven to your sister?”

“Not yet. I do not know what to say,” Arya answered, watching Aemon and Alysanne tackle Jon onto Aemon’s bed.

“Do not wait too long, Arya,” Daenerys warned her.

“Come, sister,” Allyria said, pulling on Arya’s arm to give them their privacy. Daenerys nodded to both ladies before they left the bedchambers.

“Dany?” Jon said her name, silently inviting her to join her king and their children on the bed.

“Tell me, have you misbehaved since we were gone?” Daenerys asked as she laid on the bed with Alysanne and Aemon lying between herself and Jon.

“No,” both said in unison with a guilty laugh on their lips.

“You are terrible liars,” Daenerys said, earning giggles from the prince and princess. Looking to Jon, she continued, “Like your father.”

“What have I lied about?” Jon asked in a light-hearted tone.

“Nothing. You are just a terrible liar,” Daenerys replied. _My honorable fool._

“And how do you know I am a terrible liar?” Jon asked.

“Because I know you. You would make for a terrible liar, I can tell,” Daenerys swore.

“You just haven’t discovered my lies yet,” Jon said with a foolish grin on his face.

“Is that so?” Daenerys followed, giving him a knowing look. Instead of continuing their back and forth, Jon leaned over to capture her lips, much to Aemon and Alysanne’s dismay. After her children’s grumblings, she looked to them both. “One day, you will both find someone you love and the kisses will not be so terrible.”

“I won’t,” Aemon said proudly, still too young to understand his future or have an interest in girls. _Who will be his queen? A Dornish princess or a Tyrell girl? A northern lady or a pretty girl from the Vale? Or a princess…_

“Yes, you will, stupid. You will be King after Father. A king always needs a queen, isn’t that right, Mother?” Alysanne asked.

“Yes, every king needs a queen and every queen needs a king,” Daenerys told Alysanne while staring into Jon’s eyes. _We still must wed._

“Can we go to the shore in the morning?” Aemon asked, seemingly tired of their talk of kings and queens.

“Why is it you wish to go to the beach on the morrow?” Daenerys wondered, knowing the water was too cold to swim and Aemon had other interests around the castle.

“Ser Davos showed us how to catch the crabs and net the fish. We can show you. We are good at it, really good. I promise,” Alysanne declared, surprising Daenerys. _The Onion Knight is turning my little dragons into fishers._

“Please, Mother. Please,” Aemon pleaded with heavy eyes, showing signs of his lack of sleep.

“So be it, but it must be early. Your father and I have much to do on the morrow,” Daenerys folded, earning joyous cries of victory from her twins.

“Alysanne, lets get you tucked into your own bed. It is late and it won’t be long before…,” Jon said as he tried to find his feet. Their daughter stopped him, pulling on his sleeves with all her might.

“No, don’t go! Stay!” Alysanne pleaded, trying her well-practiced pleas that never failed to break Jon.

“Fine, we will stay,” Jon laid back down on the bed after looking to Daenerys for approval. Aemon was already asleep, sooner than she had expected. Daenerys decided she could be parted from her own bed for another night. A few quick flutters of her own eyes followed and before she could fight it, her tiredness overwhelmed her will to watch over her sleeping children.

What remained of their council was already waiting for them in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Tyrion Lannister, Varys, and Missandei sat on the right side of the table while Lyanna Stark, Davos Seaworth, Ashara Dayne, Arya Stark, and Allyria Dayne occupied the other. With Jon at her side, they both found their chairs at the head of the table, where the figurines marking the Dornish army were missing, now moved north on the Roseroad between Highgarden and Bitterbridge.

“Since you did not call for us in the middle of the night, I assume everything went to plan,” Tyrion dared to speak first, doing well to hide any displeasure he may have that the victory was not his.

“The battle was over before it began. Your brother’s army is no more. A little over five thousand were taken prisoner. Most bent the knee,” Daenerys informed their council.

“And those who did not?” Varys leaned forward to inquire.

“In chains,” Jon confirmed. _Fools. What will we do with them if they refuse to bend the knee? I do not want to execute five hundred men._

“And Jaime?” Tyrion asked the question he wanted to ask since the meeting was called. Daenerys could see it in her Hand’s face. _He still cares for them, after everything. Will he stand with us, when it matters?_

“He is our prisoner,” Daenerys answered, looking for signs of Tyrion’s true loyalty.

“Ser Jaime has escaped before, your Graces,” Davos reminded them of Lady Catelyn Stark’s failings.

“Mistakes were made then. We do not mean to make the same. Ser Barristan has seen to his imprisonment. Jaime Lannister will not escape with fifty Martell and Tyrell men guarding him day and night,” Jon replied.

“Fifty Martell and Tyrell men are no guards. They will murder him the first chance they get,” Tyrion argued, showing worry in his eyes.

“And what of it? If the Kingslayer dies, so be it,” Allyria spoke up, holding her own grudge against Jaime Lannister. She had argued against taking on Tyrion as an advisor in Meereen. Unlike Lady Lyanna, Allyria did not hold her tongue when it came to the Lannisters. Ser Jaime’s attack on Ned Stark in the streets of King’s Landing would never be forgotten by his daughter.

“So be it?” Tyrion echoed in an incredulous tone.

“Perhaps you do not wish to see your family defeated after all,” Arya Stark responded with murderous eyes directed at Tyrion.

“This isn’t about me or my family. This is about the Seven Kingdoms and the city of King’s Landing,” Tyrion raised his voice at the daughters of Ned Stark. Tyrion seemed to notice his own anger and turned to herself and Jon in a calm manner. “Your Grace, you told me you did not wish to be the Queen of the Ashes. You wanted to be different. You are not my father and you certainly are not Cersei. Your dragons are not the only thing that can see the city burn to the ground. Cersei has more than enough wildfire to destroy King’s Landing ten times over. A peaceful surrender can be had, a surrender than cannot be negotiated with my brother dead.”

“Why do you think he still has his head?” Daenerys stated the obvious. “My father was an evil man and deserved his fate, but what about Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon? They were innocent and your brother did nothing to protect them. Listen when I say this. If Cersei does not surrender herself and the city, your brother is no longer of any use to us and he will answer for his crimes.”

“My sister loves Jaime, she will make the right decision,” Tyrion said, either trying to convince those around the Painted Table or himself. Daenerys did not know which.

“And if Cersei does not see reason?” Varys asked.

“I do not know the city or its defenses, but it will not be easy,” Jon stated, grimacing over something.

“Cersei has no army. The city will be defended by the city watch, boys, and old men. Most will throw down their steel when they see your armies and the dragons,” Lyanna said.

“We cannot fly the dragons into battle as easily as we thought,” Jon replied.

“They have scorpions,” Ser Davos guessed what bothered Jon.

“Aye. And they nearly killed my Queen,” Jon said, turning to look at her again, almost as if he was making sure she was actually there. Daenerys squeezed his hand beneath the table to tell him she was fine and it was not as dangerous as it seemed.

“The city will not fall in an hour without the dragons, but it will still fall. I am just a smuggler, but I was born in Flea Bottom. Stannis attacked the Mud Gate for a reason. It is a weak point, as are other points of the city’s defenses. I am sure Ser Barristan and his fellow Kingsguard know more than I and will see the best points to attack,” Davos declared.

“And we have five thousand Lannister soldiers to sing us songs. Some of them will know the weaknesses in the city’s defenses,” Varys stopped short of suggesting torture.

“Storming the city gates and climbing the walls is the easy part. How do we hold the city without dying in a storm of green flames?” Davos asked everyone at the table until his eyes settled on Varys.

“There are ways,” Varys said.

“Ways?” Jon asked.

“I still have little birds in King’s Landing, though I cannot trust them all. Some are mine and some are Qyburn’s and some, I do not know. I will do my best to learn where all the wildfire is stored,” Varys promised.

“Do not forget about the scorpions,” Davos urged the Master of Whispers.

“I did not forget, Ser Davos,” Varys told the Onion Knight in a cold tone.

“It will be another fortnight before our armies reach the city,” Jon informed Varys and the rest of their council.

“I suggest you move quickly. We will not wait to starve out the city. The smallfolk would be the first to perish,” Daenerys warned Varys and Tyrion.

“I shall require a ship,” Varys replied.

“And so, you shall have one,” Daenerys said as Varys abandoned his chair, bowing to herself and Jon before heading toward the chamber’s entrance. “Lord Varys, do not fail us. If you do, tens of thousands will die.”

“Your Grace,” Varys bowed his head again before leaving.

“I defended the city once and quite successfully. Perhaps I can…,” Tyrion started.

“You defended the city with wildfire and your father’s army. Your father is dead, his army is defeated, and your sister is not you, Lord Tyrion. What do you know of war, truly?” Ashara Dayne finally broke her silence. “I know nothing of siege warfare or tactics on the battlefield, but you have ten times the men at least and three dragons, your Graces. Cersei will not surrender, no matter what your Hand says. When she refuses, hit the city with all your strength once all the wildfire is accounted for. It will fall within hours.”

“Lady Ashara, you may think you know…,” Tyrion attempted to defend himself until Daenerys had heard enough.

“Lord Tyrion,” Daenerys cut in, silencing her Hand with a warning look.

“Any plans for a siege now are pointless. We will make plans for King’s Landing once our armies have surrounded the city and our entire council is present. We will sail for King’s Landing in ten days and wait for Ser Barristan to arrive with Lord Willas and Princess Arianne,” Jon made their plans known. They had discussed their departure and decided ten days was enough time to spend on Dragonstone with their children before their final conflict with the Lannisters.

“We haven’t discussed the terms that will be offered to Cersei,” Tyrion persisted.

“On the morrow,” Daenerys promised her Hand. _We will offer her a clean death and if she refuses, dragonfire._

“My Queen, my King,” Tyrion stood from his chair and offered his curtsies before leaving the room with Ser Davos following close behind. Their family, including the ladies of House Dayne, remained.

“There is another way,” Arya Stark offered.

“Arya…,” Jon did not want to hear it. Daenerys could hear it in his voice.

“Ashara is right. Cersei will refuse any terms that do not make her Queen. There is a way into the Red Keep. I have taken it before. Before the siege begins, I will make my way to this Qyburn and kill him. With his face, I can order Cersei’s men from the wildfire and your armies can enter the city without resistance,” Arya said.

“You mean to kill Cersei as well,” Jon saw the truth in Arya’s plan and the girl did not try to hide the truth with a lie.

“She killed our father. Robb is dead because of her and her family. My mother is dead because of them. Rickon too,” Arya defended her reasons.

“I will not have you risking your life, sneaking into the Red Keep alone,” Jon argued, standing from his seat with frustration in his voice.

“She will not be alone,” Allyria added.

“No,” Jon refused to listen to the Arya and Allyria’s plan.

“Give us time to think about it,” Daenerys told a smiling Arya and Allyria. _She killed the Freys. There is good reason to think she will succeed if what she says she can do is true._

“Daenerys…,” Jon replied, ready to argue with her. Jon held his tongue when her eyes warned him to save this argument for later.

“Aemon and Alysanne are waiting for us in the Great Hall. We have ten days to discuss King’s Landing,” Jon’s mother reminded them. Daenerys was glad Lyanna brought the meeting to its end. She missed her children and wished to see them again having only spent an hour with them on the beach. More time was needed with the prince and princess before the rest of her day was spent tending to the needs of Dragonstone and who would hold the castle after they sailed for King’s Landing, and later, the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think. I may have rushed this chapter. There should be one more chapter on Dragonstone before Jon & Dany sail or fly for KL to take back the Iron Throne. And I think that next chapter may be a Lyanna chapter.   
> Again, let me know of any mistakes, critiques, etc.


	13. Sansa I

**Sansa Stark**

An hour had passed since Maester Wolkan handed her the raven scroll and still, she could not take her eyes off the parchment. The hearth in the lord’s chambers provided her little warmth. Jon’s words were supposed to be good news, but they only made Sansa feel alone and cold. _At least Arya is alive._

Before Sansa could read the news from Dragonstone again, three soft knocks upon her door reminded her she still had duties to attend. While Jon was away, she was the Lady of Winterfell and the North was left in her hands. _How will I explain this to our bannermen? How will I explain any of this to the lords of the Vale?_

“You may come in,” Sansa answered the knocks at her door, knowing who was behind it.

“Lady Sansa, you sent for me,” Petyr Baelish answered while Sansa kept her eyes on the parchment in her hands. She could hear his footsteps draw closer while she remained by the hearth, contemplating what she should do. A part of her asked what her father would do, while another asked what Cersei would do in her position. _What would Littlefinger do?_

“I did,” Sansa confirmed, wondering if Baelish already knew everything she had just learned.

“A raven,” Baelish noted before seeing the red wax and three-headed dragon on its seal. “From Dragonstone…”

“Euron Greyjoy is dead and his fleet destroyed. The Lannister army was defeated at Highgarden and Jaime Lannister is in chains. The lords and knights that survived have bent the knee, as have the Tyrells and Martells. And my sister Arya is alive,” Sansa informed Baelish, trying to read his face after finally tearing her eyes off the parchment.

“And your brother, he has bent the knee?” Baelish asked, though his eyes told her he was sure Jon had bent the knee.

“He isn’t my brother,” Sansa replied in a near-whisper. _Jon, why did you wait all this time?_

“My apologies, your bastard brother,” Baelish said with some hesitance, seemingly unsure of her feelings toward Jon.

“He isn’t my bastard brother. He is…my cousin, Jaehaerys Targaryen,” Sansa said Jon’s true name for the first time.

“I am afraid I do not understand,” Baelish said, nearly tripping over his own tongue. Sansa could not deny the delight his confusion brought her. _For once, I have surprised him._

“He is the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my aunt, Lyanna Stark,” said Sansa, while considering everything her father had hidden from her and their family. _Why did he never tell us? Did he ever tell Mother?_

“It seems I misread our King, if what he claims is true…,” Baelish continued.

“It is true. My aunt is alive, on Dragonstone,” Sansa cut in, knowing little else from the raven. _Has she been with Daenerys Targaryen all these years?_

Baelish considered Sansa’s words for a moment before making his way to a window across the solar. He was calculating his next steps, but Sansa could not decide whether they were for her benefit or his own. _No, everything he does is for his benefit._ Sansa silently cursed herself, knowing she had shown Baelish too much. Before the Battle of the Bastards, before the Eyrie, before the Joffrey’s Wedding, Baelish never thought her a clever player of the game. _He has seen too much. He knows I am no longer a little bird._

“I have heard the dragon queen is quite beautiful,” Baelish ended the long silence as he turned to face her. “Jon is young and unmarried. Daenerys is young and unmarried. Together, they would be difficult to defeat and a marriage would unite their claims.”

“It is already decided, they are betrothed,” Sansa replied while considering the North and House Stark. She supported Jon being named King in the North, but the raven from Dragonstone changed everything. She did not know Daenerys Targaryen or her intentions for the North. _Will Jon rule the Seven Kingdoms or will it be his queen who rules, with her three dragons?_

“With the Ironborn and Westerlands defeated, Cersei is surrounded with nowhere to run. The Stormlands and Crownlands will go to Jon and Daenerys,” Baelish stated the obvious as he came to stand beside the hearth.

“Jon will be the King of the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa whispered somberly, though she did not know why.

“He was named King in the North. He can be unnamed,” Baelish suggested the poisonous idea of treason Sansa fought to indulge.

“They have three dragons, an army of Unsullied, a Dothraki horde…,” Sansa countered as she came to terms with the power her brother was gathering. It made her feel sick and treacherous, but she could not shut away her jealously. She had the loyalty of the Vale and half the northern lords, but their allegiances felt small compared to Jon’s southern armies.

“Not all victories are won on a battlefield. You most of all understand that,” Baelish painfully pointed out before taking the chair across from her. “After Cersei is defeated and King’s Landing is put to the sword, Jon and his armies will march north. Let them fight this army of the dead and whatever else lies beyond the Wall. Unsullied, Dothraki, Dornish, all southern armies who know nothing of winter. You have the loyalty of the North and the knights of the Vale, men trained to fight in ice and snow. After the wars are won, you can reclaim the North for House Stark and take what is rightfully yours. The lords of Westeros do not wish to serve the dragons anymore than they did under the Mad King’s reign. A considerable number can be persuaded and the rest can be dealt with while they are vulnerable in the North.”

“Jon is my brother…the North loved my aunt…the northern lords named him their king. He defeated the Boltons,” Sansa tried her best to voice every reason she could not do what Baelish wanted her to do.

“The battle was lost until you arrived with the knights of the Vale,” Baelish argued what she dared not say. _I shouldn’t think it. I shouldn’t…_ “And as for Lady Lyanna, the North once loved her, but will they love her when they learn the truth? How many died because of her and Prince Rhaegar? Sansa, you are the future of House Stark, not Bran nor Jon, nor Lady Lyanna.”

“My sister…Arya has always been loyal to Jon. She will side with him,” Sansa said.

“Your younger sister who has not set foot in the North for years. It was you who retook Winterfell. The northern lords will support Lord Eddard Stark’s true heir,” Baelish tempted her with the crown and titles she desired before Jon was named King. _Arya would never forgive me and Bran…what would Bran do?_

“Sansa, remember what I once told you. Stop being a bystander. You avenged your family, yes, but there is still justice to be done. After everything that has happened to you, after everything that has happened to House Stark, after all the bleeding the North has done, a Targaryen is named King in the North. Do you call that justice? After everything you have suffered, do you call it justice seeing Winterfell ruled by another family and the North returned to the Seven Kingdoms? There is no justice in this world, not unless we make it,” Baelish continued, painfully reminding Sansa of Ramsay’s cruelties and the tragedies that befell her family. _He means to use me for his own ends, but that doesn’t mean he is wrong. What should I do?_

“Thank you, Lord Baelish, for your counsel. I need to consider this matter before anything is done,” Sansa said after standing from her chair, telling Littlefinger she wished to be alone.

“My Lady,” Baelish courteously bowed while gracing her with his untrustworthy smile. As soon as he was gone and she was alone in her parents’ former chambers, Sansa took her time to consider her course of action. _Jon was a Snow, but he was a Stark, but has that changed? Does he still care about the North and Winterfell? Even if I…Arya would never…And Bran? And Littlefinger, he takes risks while using others. Does he intend to sacrifice me or does he love me, as he did Mother?_

Sansa spent what remained of the day in her solar alone, quietly considering her possibilities. If she betrayed Jon, she was betraying family and risking everything against the greatest power in Westeros. If she betrayed Baelish, she was setting herself against the greatest player of the game and risked falling into one of his traps. _Perhaps it is best I do nothing._

It was shortly after dusk when another knock sounded at Sansa’s door, interrupting her thoughts. Her guards let her know Bran wished to speak with her, so she bid them entry. She still had so many questions for Bran. She had already asked many, but his answers were always masked in riddles and mystery. _I should ask him…_

Once they were alone, Bran started before she could begin. “Sansa, there is something you must know about Jon. Jon isn’t our brother. He is the son…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter took longer than expected, but I was busy w/ my other fic. This is a short chapter and I never planned for a Sansa POV, but I thought it necessary to show a sliver of what is going on in the North and setting the stage for the return to Winterfell. And yes, the raven did not tell Sansa about Aemon and Alysanne. Jon & Dany are being careful with the knowledge of their children's existence until the Iron Throne is won. I hope Sansa's internal thoughts make sense. She is conflicted and seriously contemplating either betraying Jon or Littlefinger. Question is, who will she choose? Maybe she will betray both? And now that I have written a Sansa chapter, I feel like I must write a Lyanna chapter.
> 
> Let me know what you think and please let me know if you spot any errors.


	14. Lyanna I

**Lyanna Stark**

Dragonstone was finally beginning to feel like a home, the home Lyanna had conjured in her dreams long ago when Rhaegar was still with her. It was the place she dreamed of sharing with Rhaegar and Elia and their children, but the castle she found was nothing like she imagined. After crossing the Narrow Sea, they were greeted with an abandoned and pillaged keep. Tapestries were torn, the kitchens emptied, solars left unkept, and anything of value was stolen.

Lyanna’s disappointment with the seat of House Targaryen felt like a long-forgotten memory as she made her way through the familiar corridors leading to the Chamber of the Painted Table. Stannis Baratheon could do nothing to erase the memory of the dragonlords from the castle’s stones, but he did his best to mask it with Baratheon banners, tapestries, and paintings. All that was gone now, replaced with paintings of dragonlords, red and black banners, and all the ornaments and fineries Daenerys had acquired in Essos. _This place was always meant for dragons. Robert was wise to never come here. It would have made him look small._

Outside the Chamber of the Painted Table, Lyanna found Ghost standing guard at the door with a pair of Unsullied sentries. Her son’s protectors were as quiet as silent sisters and as still as statues. _Paint them grey and they will blend in with the dragons, basilisks, manticores, and wyverns on these walls._

“Iksis se dārys mērī?” Lyanna inquired in her broken High Valyrian. Daenerys and Missandei did more to improve her Valyrian than all her years in Pentos, but it was still no match for her teachers.

“Kessa, Dāria Lyanna,” one of the Unsullied answered, annoying her with the title. Daenerys insisted she be referred to by her proper titles, but Lyanna always reminded her good sister she was never the queen. Every time she did, Daenerys ignored her protest and insisted her father lost his crown the day he burned Lyanna’s father and brother.

As Lyanna moved forward, Ghost parted her path and the second sentry opened the door for her to enter. Inside, she found a blazing hearth and her son staring out at the grey rainclouds that filled the skies above Blackwater Bay. The rainfall was hard and the winds were strong. Lyanna prayed the storm was not some terrible omen forewarning them of the impending siege of King’s Landing.

Despite the song of a thousand raindrops beating against the castle’s grey stone, Jon heard her footsteps. He looked over his shoulder to gift her his shy smile for the shortest of moments before returning his gaze to the sea and storm. Jon looked tired from days of planning and strategizing for the final battle to reclaim the Iron Throne and unite the Seven Kingdoms under the rule of its true king.

“I thought your plans were settled. Everyone agreed,” Lyanna said, wondering why Jon was away from Daenerys and the children, brooding alone over a map of Westeros.

“The North,” Jon answered with a pain in his voice. Lyanna turned back to see the figurines representing their armies around Winterfell and Castle Black had been rearranged, again.

“There is nothing you can do for the North, not now. You said it yourself, the war with Cersei must be won before the war with the Dead,” Lyanna warned her son. She waited for him to face her, but he persisted with his brooding. “Jon, look at me. Forget the North and the White Walkers and all else. King’s Landing is all that matters now. The best thing you can do for the North is see this war to its end. I know little of ruling or leading men into battle, but I know you cannot fight a war in the North while you are commanding an army in the Crownlands.”

“If you had seen what I have seen, you would find it hard not to think of what lies beyond the Wall,” Jon replied.

“I believe in you, my son, but it will do you no good brooding over this…Night King and his army. All your attention needs to be on King’s Landing,” Lyanna reminded him what she thought was best. He did not say it, but the Stark grey eyes she had given her son told Lyanna he agreed. “Your plan is a good plan, but things may change and you must be ready to react to any move Cersei makes.”

For nine days, countless hours were spent around the Painted Table, planning the siege of King’s Landing. They had accounted for the use of wildfire within and without the city, scorpions along the walls and atop rooftops, and how they would breach the walls and gates. Every known defense Cersei could implement was considered and strategies were formed to account for them. But Lyanna knew better than to place her faith entirely in well-made plans. _Father always said sound battleplans can be unmade at the first clash of steel._

“What is it you are afraid to say?” Jon asked after a long silence. Lyanna thought she hid her worries well, but her son dispensed with that notion.

“Keep your eyes on Tyrion,” she counseled.

“Tyrion? He is a good man, a man I trust. He would never…,” Jon tried to defend the Hand of the King and Queen.

“He is a Lannister! Do not forget that. He is your friend, yes, but just that. We are not his family. His family is Cersei and Jaime. Few see it, but he is more Tywin’s son than Jaime. Daenerys chose him for her Hand because he is clever and he ruled King’s Landing before, quite successfully given the circumstances. But what has his counsel given her? His rule in Meereen was disastrous and his plans for Westeros would have weakened our position,” Lyanna revealed her long-held concerns regarding Tyrion. _I will not let you walk blindly into one of his follies or traps._

“You think he means to betray us,” Jon replied with a skeptical look about his face.

“I could be wrong. Perhaps he is a loyal Hand with poor counsel,” Lyanna said as she considered her time with Tyrion in Meereen. “But what I do know is he loves his brother. He will try and protect him, and perhaps Cersei as well. Just be careful, with him and Varys and those who are not family.”

“I trust the Kingsguard,” her son added.

“As well you should. Your Ser Davos, I like him. He seems a good man. You can trust him and the Unsullied and Edric Dayne, mayhaps even those Tyrells while Cersei still lives. Many lords and knights have bent the knee and sworn oaths of fealty, but they cannot be trusted. Some do not take oaths as seriously as others,” Lyanna told her son, praying he would not make the same mistakes her brother and nephew made.

Lyanna waited for Jon to say something as a sadness passed over his face. He could not even look at her, instead choosing to stare at the storms raging outside the castle. Fear and panic seeped into her bones as she realized what she had said. She remembered what some of the Reach lords had said when they heard the King in the North was sailing for Dragonstone. Some called him an oathbreaker, like Robb Stark, for abandoning his command of the Night’s Watch. _Does he think I believe him to be an oathbreaker?_

“I’m sorry. I did not mean…,” Lyanna hurried her apology, reaching down to take his hand.

“I know,” Jon nearly whispered, reminding her of Ned with his few words. There was even some of Rhaegar in the way he spoke.

“What happened at Castle Black?” Lyanna finally found the courage she had been searching for to ask. “Melisandre never told us how you left the Night’s Watch. I asked Daenerys, but she said it was your story to tell. She said you did not break your vows. Ser Davos said the same.”

“My vows…,” he said with a pained face looking down at his feet.

“It’s alright,” Lyanna tried to console him with another squeeze of his hand. “We do not have to speak of it.”

“I did not ask to be Lord Commander. I did not want it,” Jon started. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice, how much it pained him to tell it, but she did not find the will to stop him. “I did what I thought was right, for the realms of men. The free folk are different, aye, but they are still men. After Stannis Baratheon marched his army south for Winterfell, I saw no other choice. We were leaving them to die beyond the Wall…to become soldiers in the Night King’s army.”

“So, you went North,” Lyanna guessed.

“Aye. Many of my brothers disagreed. Most wanted to leave them there to die. With Tormund Giantsbane and two dozen brothers, we rode for Eastwatch and sailed for Hardhomme. Half, maybe more made it onto the ships. The rest fell. We tried to save as many as we could, but there were too many of them,” Jon said, sparing her the details of the battle he had already recounted to their council once before.

“Go on,” Lyanna encouraged him after a pause.

“I was the first Lord Commander in history to sacrifice the lives of sworn brothers to save the lives of wildlings. I was the most hated man in Castle Black. After the free folk were settled in the Gift, after Sam was gone, and Ser Davos and Melisandre returned…My steward…,” Jon continued carefully with his words. Whatever he meant to tell her, Lyanna sensed it was nothing good. She felt cold, even afraid to hear the rest of her son’s story.

“During the night, they sent my steward. He said one of the wildlings knew where to find Uncle Benjen. They said he was alive. I didn’t think. When I reached the yard, there was no wildling, only a grave-marker that said traitor. I tried to…I was surrounded and…My watch was ended,” her son stopped, unable to say anymore.

“I don’t understand,” Lyanna said, confused by his story. _Did I miss something? Did I mishear? Did they banish you?_

“A brother of the Night’s Watch is sworn for life,” was all he said, further confusing her. _Yes, I know. Everyone knows that._

“I still don’t…,” Lyanna began.

“I was murdered, by my own brothers,” Jon confirmed what she did not want to believe. Part of her still did not believe it. Her son seemed to sense the disbelief she still held.

Lyanna tried to say something, but the heavy lump in her throat silenced her. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes as she watched Jon loosen the top of his jerkin. As he pulled on the leather, Lyanna felt her world crumbling. She tried not to look, knowing what she would see, but she tried to be brave, like her son.

“No…no, no, no…my son…my son…my boy,” Lyanna said in a trembling voice through her tears. The red scar over his heart broke her own. Her tears blurred her vision to the point she could no longer see the scar. When she reached out her hand to make sure it was real, she retreated, afraid of how she would react if her fingers traced the scar that had killed her son.

“I should have been there…I should have protected you…I should have…I…I…I betrayed you…I abandoned you…your own mother…I,” Lyanna sobbed as regret and self-hatred began to consume her. She struggled to breathe as her heart beat like a war drum in her chest and her legs trembled like those of a weakened old crone. Overwhelmed by her grief, she was ready to collapse until her son wrapped his arms around her.

“You did not abandon me. You saved me. You protected me. You saved us,” Jon whispered as she cried into his leather jerkin.

“I didn’t. I didn’t,” Lyanna insisted through her tears before surrendering to her sorrow and regret. Again, Lyanna found herself comforted in her son’s embrace when she needed to be the one holding him. _I was never there for him, never. How many nights did he suffer, alone in Winterfell with no mother to tell him everything will be alright? If I kept him, he would have been safe. He would have seen his children born into this world. He would have never suffered the betrayal of traitors._

“Everyone I love…you, Rhaegar, Brandon, Father, Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon, Rhaella, Ned, your cousins, all of them died because of my mistakes,” Lyanna said, hating herself for everything she had ever done.

“That isn’t true,” her son argued, holding onto her tighter than before.

“It is,” Lyanna insisted despite the heavy lump still in her throat. She tried to stop the tears and her fragile sobs, but it took time. If it were not for her son’s strength, Lyanna was sure she would have crumbled to the floor and stayed there for days, wishing to never see another soul again. _Why are the gods so cruel? Jon is good. Rhaenys and Aegon were good. Rhaegar and Elia…_

Lyanna was sure hours had passed before she collected herself, but she knew that wasn’t true. When she had no more tears left to shed and nothing more to say that could make things right, she pulled herself from Jon’s loving embrace. Where she thought herself weak and terrible, her son was strong and brave. _How can he love me, after all this? I wasn’t there for him. I turned my back on him and the life we deserved…out of fear._

“I do not deserve you. I do not deserve any of this. If the gods were just, it would have paid for my sins and mistakes, not my son,” Lyanna sniffled away the last tears as she cupped her son’s cheek, seeing all of Rhaegar in him.

“Do not say that. I have done plenty wrong. And when have the gods been just?” Jon replied as she withdrew her hand.

“A mother could not ask for a better son. I pray you know that. Only the best of sons would still love their mother after everything I have done,” Lyanna said.

“My entire life, I always wondered who you were, where you were, if you loved me. Now that I have found you, how can I not love you? You did what you thought was right, not for yourself, but me. How could I hate you for trying to protect me? I would hate it, but if I thought sending away Aemon or Alysanne would protect them from harm, I would do it,” Jon said, leaving her with nothing to say. _You should expect more from me. A son deserves more from his mother._

“Daenerys…How has she taken it?” Lyanna asked, knowing she need not ask about the children. She knew neither her son nor Daenerys would tell the twins about Jon’s death at Castle Black.

“Hard at first. She was angry and upset. She wanted to burn them, but I told her they were all dead,” Jon replied. _Is that what I should have felt? I did not even think of the murderers. How could I not ask what became of them?_ “Every morning she asks if it hurts and I tell her they are just scars. She tries not to speak of it, for me, I think.”

“I am sorry. We will speak of something else,” Lyanna said before pausing to think of anything else. Her thoughts were consumed with everything she had learned. “The wedding…You are sure to wait until Winterfell?”

“Aye. I intended to marry her in Aegon’s Garden or the sept or wherever would suit here, but Daenerys insisted on Winterfell. One night in Pentos, I had told her of northern weddings and what they looked like in Winterfell. She says she has always dreamt of us kneeling before the heart tree, with the trees and pools around us. And there is the lords of the North and Vale. They do not know or trust her. She wants to use the ceremony to win their trust and fealty,” Jon answered, forcing Lyanna to remember the sights and smells of the godswood. She did her best to paint the picture in her mind, but part of her was afraid she did not know the Winterfell godswood any better than Daenerys.

“And all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms will be there as well, mayhaps even some of the riverlords,” Lyanna mused, guessing some would join her son’s armies when they marched north after King’s Landing. “Just be sure you and Daenerys protect yourselves. Do not risk anything after making it this far. Cersei is defeated. Do not fight her on her terms.”

“We won’t,” Jon swore.

“Come, let us find Aemon and Alysanne before you leave,” Lyanna nodded her head to door, meaning to spend what time she had left with her son and Daenerys before they needed to leave for King’s Landing.

Drogon and Rhaegal were gone, no longer visible over the western horizon. Lyanna’s eyes lost sight of the dragons long before, but Aemon and Alysanne did not move from their place between a pair of merlons along the western ramparts. The twins’ unflinching gaze only made her adore them more, but it also earned her pity. _They already miss them._

“We should go. We still have Viserion,” Aemon complained.

“Try and climb that dragon and I swear I will send Ghost here after you. He will pick you up by the back of your neck with his teeth like a little pup,” Lyanna warned her grandson. Both of her grandchildren found that amusing while Ghost only tilted his head in confusion after hearing his name spoken. _Does he even understand me? He listens to Jon and Dany, but…_

“How long will they be gone?” Alysanne asked despite being told dozens of times before Jon and Daenerys would not be away for long.

“Not long,” Lyanna replied.

“Mother was gone for moons in Meereen,” Alysanne reminded Lyanna of the many sleepless nights she looked after the prince and princess. Neither Aemon nor Alysanne adjusted well to their mother’s absence. Most days, she kept their minds elsewhere with rides on their ponies or adventures into the catacombs of the Great Pyramid to feed the two dragons. When she needed to put them to sleep, she recounted tales of the North, memories of Rhaegar, and imagined deeds accomplished by their father along the Wall.

“They will not be away so long,” Lyanna assured them both with hands on their little shoulders, taking in the view of an approaching sunset.

“Promise?” Alysanne replied, glancing back at Lyanna with her amethyst eyes that were all Daenerys.

“Promise,” Lyanna swore, to Ashara’s silent amusement.

When the children finally abandoned their watch atop the wall, they returned to their quarters in the Stone Drum. While the children played in the solar between their bedchamber, Lyanna and Ashara spoke with Red Spear, the captain of the Unsullied in command of the small garrison left behind on Dragonstone. Lyanna quickly learned the rotation of watches, where the soldiers patrolled within and without the castle walls, and the names of the lieutenants that remained.

It was almost as if Lyanna was returned to her time in Pentos, only now she had command of a great castle instead of a modest manse. Ashara was still there, but Allyria was gone, with Alysanne and Aemon taking her place. The Kingsguard were also gone, replaced by a thousand Unsullied, some men at arms from Dragonstone, a collection of servants, and the women and children of the khalasar.

After Red Spear came Maester Pylos and Allard, the newly-appointed steward for Dragonstone. Lyanna learned what little she did not already know from the men after they appraised her of the castle’s affairs. Allard complained of the makeshift larders, warning her they had acquired too much grain. Pylos protested, insisting more was required, for long summers more often than not preceded long winters. She decided Pylos’ counsel was wiser than the steward’s, who did not care to account for the Dothraki camped outside the walls of Dragonstone.

Following her orders to resume the purchase of grain from the east and south, Pylos took his leave to ready his ravens and send his messengers to the Port of Dragonstone. Allard remained little longer, going over the accounts of the royal treasury. The sums presented before Lyanna still surprised her. When she arrived in Meereen, Daenerys lacked any real wealth. Anything of value was sold or bartered to feed her armies and the freed slaves. House Targaryen now possessed great wealth built from the emptied vaults and pyramids of the former masters of the Bay of Dragons.

“Is that the last of them?” asked Ashara. Lyanna nodded her head in confirmation as she dipped her quill into the ink so she could write what remained of her raven scroll intended for Lord Tytos Blackwood. “And you think they will join us?”

“House Blackwood and House Stark have always been friends. Lord Tytos may not hold any love for me, but he fought beside my brother and bent the knee to my nephew. The Lannisters burned his fields, pillaged his towns, and murdered his smallfolk. He will see reason,” Lyanna answered as she finished her letter and sealed the scroll with red wax marked by the thrice-headed dragon of House Targaryen. Raventree Hall was just one of two dozen castles across the Riverlands and the Vale that were to receive her ravens. It was too late for them to join the siege at King’s Landing, but she intended to have them join her son’s armies upon the Kingsroad for the long march north.

“Be sure to mention the dragons,” Ashara added in a dark, yet playful tone. Lyanna wasn’t so sure her friend was jesting.

“Some things are better left unsaid,” Lyanna replied. _The sigil sealing this scroll will do._

“Why the Vale? Doesn’t your niece rule the little lord in the Eyrie?” Ashara inquired as they retreated from the Chamber of the Painted Table to join the prince and princess.

“I do not intend to leave things to chance. Jon sent a raven to Winterfell, but I do not trust Littlefinger whispering into Sansa’s ear,” answered Lyanna. Her son had nothing good to say of the Protector of the Vale and Lyanna disliked everything she heard of the former Master of Coin. Varys said it was Petyr Baelish, not Cersei Lannister who should concern them the most.

“Do you mistrust your niece?” her friend asked when they reached the royal apartments within the Stone Drum.

“So long as she keeps Littlefinger by her side, yes. My son has a forgiving heart, but I do not. She did not tell him of her Vale knights. He could have died retaking Winterfell, for her. He intended to serve her,” Lyanna whispered as they drew closer to her grandchildren’s chambers. She could feel the anger overwhelming herself as she spoke of her niece. _Mayhaps she is truly her mother’s daughter. Does she have no love for Jon? He would be better served with Arya ruling Winterfell, or Allyria._

Lyanna spared a sorrowful smile for her best friend before she passed the sentries and pushed through the door to the grandchildren’s solar. It saddened Lyanna to think of what was stolen from Ashara and Allyria. _Ned should have never left her. He should have stayed. She should have been the Lady of Winterfell. Allyria should have been raised a Stark. Arya could have been Ashara’s._

“Surrender, lions!” Aemon and Alysanne greeted them at sword point. Lyanna and Ashara laughed at the children’s game and threw their hands up in surrender. A great fortification of pillows, bedsheets, cloaks, books, and a table had been constructed within the solar that separated the prince and princess’ bedchambers. Lyanna guessed they were waging a war upon King’s Landing. A part of her felt sad, for they did not understand the risks of war. Another part of her was grateful they were spared that worry.

“We surrender, little dragons,” Ashara pleaded in a merciful voice.

“We are not little!” Alysanne disagreed.

“Is that so?” Lyanna smirked before nudging Aemon’s blade away. Her grandson was caught by surprise and tried to flee. He was too slow and she was too quick. Lyanna had her grandson in her arms, tickling him until he laughed so hard, tears fell from his eyes. Ashara did the same with Alysanne, until they all fell to the floor laughing together.

“Ghost! Help!” Alysanne pleaded for aid. Ghost stayed silent, laying near the children’s fort with his red eyes vigilantly watching the door. _Thank the gods! For once, he does not follow their every command._

“I remember when my little dragons could fight their battles without that wolf,” Lyanna mused.

“We can still fight without him. We took the castle without him,” Aemon swore, looking to the pillows and covers forming a wall around the table in the corner of the solar.

“Can’t you see? The towers melted like candles,” Alysanne pointed to what Lyanna guessed was three small towers built of books and bedsheets stuffed with pillows. She found her grandchildren’s imagination far greater than her own. “Like Harrenhal. You said Balerion turned them into wax candles.”

“I did. Yes, it looks exactly like Harrenhal,” Lyanna lied. The solar was not dark enough to cover the white bedsheets in a darkness that could match Harrenhal’s stone.

“Can we go for a ride on the morrow?” Aemon asked after collecting himself from the floor.

“Aye, but you are to stay away from the cliffs. I do not trust you two around that dragon,” Lyanna warned the prince and princess. Both had mischief in their eyes until she put an end to their plot before it could be enacted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I think this is one of my better chapters, especially the Jon-Lyanna scene. Hopefully you agree. Next chapter will probably be Jon or Dany camped outside the walls of King's Landing. Also, there will definitely be an Arya chapter in the future.


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